


Looking back on the days...

by Drumthis



Category: Da Vinci's Demons
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Multi, translation from french
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:55:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 25
Words: 40,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25937776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drumthis/pseuds/Drumthis
Summary: Leonardo and Girolamo's bumpy ride from strangers to friends, enemies, frenemies and friends again !
Relationships: Leonardo da Vinci/Girolamo Riario
Comments: 12
Kudos: 5





	1. "The Shelter"

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Les Temps d’Avant](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24312859) by [Drumthis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drumthis/pseuds/Drumthis). 



> Tagged "underage" for allusions to child abuse and for one scene regarding Vanessa. No depiction.
> 
> Please, forgive my clumsiness, I'm a French-speaking fan.

They had not always been allies. Far from it. Back in the days when Leonardo Da Vinci used to be a student at the Royal Academy of Arts, and was more often still to be found at “The Shelter“ — a small pub in Paddington, which he was managing with the help of three friends of his — Giròlamo Riario was the perfect incarnation of everything he disliked.

But let’s rather begin at the beginning…

It was the kind of August we are kind of getting used to. London had been howling for thirst all day long, under the kind of heat normally more likely to crush Andalusia than our beloved green England. Tonight, the pub was empty, whereas the tables outside were full. Yes, some clients preferred to stand outside than enter and lose the least, illusory, chance for a fleeting breath of fresh air.

Even the slim Niccolò and Vanessa, Leonardo’s younger helps, were complaining about weariness and swollen legs.

Niccolò Machiavelli, seventeen, ahead of his age, was taking courses in politics and economics at the London School of Economics; Vanessa, sixteen (to be), was taking dance and singing lessons, and occasionally clinched a cameo role in modest stage and film productions. Tommaso, their eldest friend, a tall flamboyantly bisexual guy, an addict to flirtatious approaches (while waiting for Leo to look at him a wee bit more sharply), was living on resourcefulness, or rather on shady busyness, given he was more often than not walking on a thin rope above illegal territory.

While both youngest friends were fond of measure, Tommaso Masini was most of the time loud and Leonardo da Vinci eccentric.

The Shelter was known as a pub of regulars, full of unconventional individuals and artists of all disciplines who lived along the banks in Little Venice, just disembarked from surrounding small theaters, or else commuters, unloaded in groups from the trains of the nearby station. Sometimes, however, famous people liked to stop by, to take a gratifying dive into beginners’London. THAT was when Tommaso was to be hurried away from the place.

On this hot night, probably more by default than by real choice, two men came to sit inside, at the table furthest from the bar. One of them was none other than the owner of the premises : building contractor Lucas Webb. Leonardo, busy serving two other customers at the bar, was little surprised that Lucas didn't greet him on his way in. The man was versatile by nature and was, at the moment, sailing on the rather stormy sea of his personal life. His marriage had been on the rocks since his wife had decided to give up the indulgence she had shown up to that point. The skipper liked pretty girls a little too much and took no precautions to hide it.

So it was the stranger who came to order their drinks.

Dark from head to toe, with a very neat short boxed beard and hands that had probably never touched any tool other than the keys of a keyboard, his gaze lingered for a few, too long, seconds on Leonardo's wrinkled AC/DC T-shirt and on its accordion neckline. He smiled a small, conventional, uptight smile:

"Let me bet on one of Lady Luck’s whims — do you happen to serve wine in this establishment ?

\- Indeed we do ! said Leo, although luck has little say in the choice of our wine list... French or Italian?

\- Italian… And dare I hazard... a Barolo?

There was fun, without challenge, in that smile, and Leonardo put as much into his own in return:

\- Bingo, buddy ! Straight from its Piedmontese vineyard. I suggest you get yourself a lottery ticket... Even though you obviously don't seem to need it, he added, with a steady gaze sweeping across his client's clothing.

The latter laughed with good grace and conceded:

\- Well, I've been asking for this one, haven’t I ?

\- Indeed, you have. But that won't stop me from wishing you a good tasting, said the student, serving two glasses.

\- Reserve the bottle for me, please, I'll come back for it, the customer smiled.

\- I'll bring it to your table, it will give me an opportunity to greet Lucas... “Tom!“ he shouted in direction of the kitchen, where his friend was usually qualifying as an unwelcome taster... Tom! Would you please forget about the food for a moment and come and collect the gentleman’s cash ?

Tommaso made quite an entrance, choking, then coughing out a piece of apple pie as big as one mouthful:

\- Holy shit! I almost didn't make it to my thirtieth birthday !

The customer stared at him coldly:

\- I’ve always been taught it is useful to chew your food before swallowing it, he commented, between his teeth.

Their eyes met in a mixture of contempt and fury.Tommaso snatched a five hundred euro note from his hands and grumbled, ill-treating the cash register:

\- Of course you don't have a smaller note ?

\- Not if I owe you four hundred and eighty euros, no, I'm afraid not."

The tanned face of the waiter turned carmine, but at the cost of great effort, he succeeded in holding himself. It wouldn't be the first time that a customer complained about his "natural" side, and he needed this job, the only fixed income in the month.

"Damn it! Have you ever seen anything more arrogant? he murmured angrily, as the client was walking away to his place in front of Lucas.

\- Would you like bringing them their tray ? Leonardo suggested.

\- I'd rather be courted by a snake ! Yet another of those high-school daddy's sons !

\- Yeah, well, I for one don't envy him... Wearing a tight-fitting suit in this heat takes quite a lot of devotion!

\- Surely, you mean a lot of assholeness !" Tom rectified as he swallowed his rage together with a handful of peanuts.


	2. Surprises.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Giròlamo comes back to The Shelter, he is curious about the painter.

The next day, Giròlamo Riario returned to the Shelter at that time of the afternoon when pubs simply hum — too early for commuters and lovers of theaters and cinemas, too late for those who came to have lunch there.

Niccolò and Vanessa were busy in the kitchen, washing up or cooking, whereas Tommaso had not yet arrived. Market days were the most lucrative for him, so he only showed up at the pub in the evening, at rush hours.

It was still very hot, perhaps even hotter yet, because thunderstorms were forecast for the beginning of the night. Up there, the clouds were only on stand-by.

« You've got some stamina to endure a suit in the middle of summer, Leo smiled, as he greeted his customer.

\- It's just a matter of metabolism and habit, you know. I've worn all kinds of suits since I was a child... this is one of the lightest.

\- Are you speaking literally or figuratively? Leonardo inquired, amused.

\- Both, in fact ! Riario chuckled. He enjoyed it when his interlocutors possessed that turn of mind, catching the double entendre where it was.

\- I went to see your paintings at the Royal Academy," he went on. Lucas Webb recommended them to me... May I invite you to join me at a table? I'd like to hear what their creator has to say...

Leo frowned, checking for a joke, but read none on the spectacular angular face of his visitor :

\- Oh! Is that for real ? Did you take the trouble ?

The man was right there, with his hands behind his back, standing at attention.

\- It wasn't a mission or a chore, he protested placidly. Although I'm a complete layman, I appreciate art in all its forms. Moreover, I am curious by nature... How about that drink?

\- Yes! Gladly. I'll arrange it with my friend Nico... And what would you like to order today?

\- At this early hour, a coffee... if, at least, you serve it in cups of a decent size. I hate coffee served in pharmaceutical doses.

\- I'm with you on this one... and on the other: Pick a seat and I'll join you with two "Gifees".

He disappeared into the kitchen and Giròlamo took his place at the table he'd occupied the day before.

A small group of tourists were taking a seat at the terrace, noisy like all his fellow countrymen. He frowned. He disapproved of this lack of discretion. These people were shouting out their nonsense as if it was anything of general interest.

\- We really are creatures of habit, aren't we?" Leo smiled on finding his client at the same table. He placed a tray containing two giant coffees and even a coffee pot on the table.

\- You are thinking of my choice of this place? The man's slightly hoarse voice gave him an air of mystery, with, Leo thought, maybe even a bit of a threat underneath... I didn't choose this place because of man's inclination towards routine alone, see. There's also a bit of strategy... This table is located in the most discreet part of the establishment: you can talk aloud without being heard and pick up your interlocutor without interference from the music or the bar's shouting, which are a constant feature in pubs. Moreover, I can see who enters and leaves the room, and my back is turned to the wall, thus, protected by it. To my right, an emergency exit and a fire extinguisher that would serve as a suitable backup weapon ...

He was staring at Leonardo and displaying a slightly facetious half-smile. The young man was staring at him, looking for a sign of joke in his physiognomy. But he only saw the satisfaction at showing the relevance of his choice.

\- You're serious, aren't you? Leo tested, confused.

\- Yes. Most of the time.

There was irony there, and the client's brown eyes sparkled.

\- So... either you lead a dangerous life or you're paranoid.

\- Which of those two options would you find more reassuring?

\- What? Actually, none! Leo said convincingly.

\- In that case, I'll be frank: yes, I'm exposed to danger on a fairly regular basis. »

He deduced from the barman's obvious surprise that Lucas Webb had not betrayed anything from their meeting the day before to his employee and friend, and congratulated himself on this. He liked the young man: he seemed straight and open, a little naive perhaps, and he would have been chagrined had he not been able to find out more about him. Moreover, Webb had mentioned the student's great knowledge of art history, knowledge that could be of great use to Girolamo if he managed to interest the artist in his project.

At the moment, the student was looking for some self-assurance at the bottom of his large cup, as he was swirling the delicious "Senegal", and his elder had plenty of time to observe him: medium-length light chestnut hair, messy; short bitten fingernails, neglected short beard - there was impatience underneath, as well as a manifest indifference to the judgment of others... All right! Boldness, then... But also...

\- Would it shock you if I told you I found mysticism in your paintings?

Leo raised his head sharply, as if in a sudden waking up, and his green eyes widened with curiosity:

\- Are you thinking of my “Praying hands“?

\- My favourite, of course... We are very attached to faith in my family, very close to the Catholic Church. But, no, I wasn't thinking of this one in particular. There's a surge of soul in all the ones I've seen, both in the portraits and the landscapes.

\- I suppose there's metaphysics in every work of art, isn't there?" Leo tempered.

\- Only in the self-respecting ones, but I saw in yours, too, an invitation to look for something superior.

Leo lifted a finger, Riario immediately made it clear:

\- Not necessarily divine, don't get me wrong, but certainly an essence that is beyond us... that is far beyond an ideal. For, in short, however perfect, an ideal is still humanly conceived, a fabrication of our brain.

Leo wiggled in his chair, almost stood up and smiled broadly. He pointed a finger at his companion and exclaimed:

\- Yes! Yes! That's exactly it! Oh, I would kiss you for saying that!

Surprise prevailed over rigor, Giròlamo Riario gave a brief burst of laughter:

\- Please, don't ! I only gave you my impression...

\- Oh! If you only knew! If you only knew how many people look at me with suspicion when I try to explain what you've just told me! Either they don't understand what I'm trying to explain, or they consider having me committed without further delay.

\- If you ask me, the problem is that the times are trying to lock us up in pragmatism and they're succeeding rather well, Da Vinci.

(Use his last name, not his first name !)

They weren't meant to be friends. Associates, perhaps, if Giròlamo maneuvered well, but definitely not friends. They belonged to too conflicting worlds for that — birds and fish didn’t fraternize : sometimes, even, one ate the other up. The family name would suffice.

\- Sir... Leo started... I don't even know your name... ?

\- Riario.

\- Well, Mr. Riario, you brighten up my day. Knowing that someone could feel that through my paintings reconciles me to the idea of continuing my classes.

\- You weren't thinking of giving up painting, were you? the client worried. It would be a waste.

He was both sincere and on the lookout. If his plan to include Leo in his research was to succeed, the young man had to be freed from all the obligations and constraints of an academic education; on the other hand, it would truly have been a pity to lose a talent such as his.

\- Not give up painting, no, never, but the Academy... It's getting too expensive for me. My work here isn't enough... Can I refill your cup ?

Giròlamo nodded:

\- Thank you, yes... Don't drop the painting, you are brilliant. I mean it very sincerely."

Leo put his hand to his lips, to tame too exuberant a smirk of satisfaction. This rather solemn customer would have taken him for a fool and, without really knowing why, he preferred to keep a minimum of caution in his presence, and, even more so, a minimum of self-defense.

A man who calculated all the possibilities of escape in a quiet pub like The Shelter may not be as reliable as Leo tended to imagine, after all .


	3. Falling...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leonardo and Giròlamo meet every day...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... "at the same café" * 
> 
> * :-D a reference to Billy Paul's famous "Me and Mrs. Jones“ 🎶

It had become a habit. Every afternoon, Giròlamo Riario would come for coffee and Leonardo would join him at his table until the pub was full of "office people", as Tommaso called them.

Both curious and very different by nature, they loved this discovery of another lover of beautiful things, reading, cinema, who also happened to own a more subtle humour than the ordinary. They each had their share of mystery, a closed territory where one did not venture, that one did not try to violate.

Seeing their friend somehow cornered by this stranger, Niccolò and Vanessa would replace him whenever possible, to give him more freedom.Vanessa had decreed that the man was fascinating enough to consent to the tacit request, and Niccolò had agreed with her - as he always did - that Leonardo deserved to enjoy this flirtation "on tiptoe".

This made Tommaso nuts.

" There is no flirtation ! Leonardo protested, exasperated...Is it necessary to see romance or smut at work in any kind of relationship? You're all so tiresome !

\- Between you and me, you don't look at him as if a little episode in bed never occurred to you! Vanessa laughed, pulling a lock of her long red hair out of her face.

\- His countenance doesn't reveal anything, but I would say that his big black eyes often read you with a striking intensity ! Niccolò had commented.

\- He just wants to catch you then throw you away, Tommaso said, that's all they know, that kind of guy. It's just an escapade to the world of commoners to him. Not to mention the impression he's making on me: the guy doesn't seem to put his files on the table.

\- The expression is"put his cards on the table" Tom ! Leo retorted between clenched teeth.

\- Yeah... It's the same thing. I'm telling you : he's hiding something. The bastard even looks downright toxic... like a boa or a viper... well, one of those deadly things. »

Leonardo had shrugged his shoulders and turned his back on them all, each in turn, but secretly admitted that, at times, there was around Giròlamo Riario something like the scent of menace carried by the icy breath of a cave or a church.

At the end of their fifth meeting, Giròlamo declared:

" This is the last time we'll meet like this... Unfortunately, I have to close this pleasant parenthesis and put on my stricter costume, the one in which you have never seen me, but which is actually the one I usually wear.

As always, his gaze swept across the pub, on the lookout, vigilant. There was little inclination to doubt the rigour he was about to adopt.

\- You're leaving us? Leonardo said, waving to Niccolò, back from his Friday afternoon classes. He feared that his disappointment would show in his eyes and busied himself filling their large cups with "Senegal".

\- Yes, and no. I have to leave the sphere in which I am a respectable and civilized man. My work requires me in a harsh world, where the word friendship does not exist, and where people are suspicious of everything and everyone.

\- Oh! I'm sorry for you... you're made for this one ! Leonardo smiled.

-Thank you for saying so... But don't go taking it for granted: a weasel doesn't breed kittens, it would devour them sooner or later. To the contrary, it makes sure that its offspring follow in its own footsteps and become good predators.

\- I'm just... I'm just...I'm not following you, Giròlamo.

\- You'll soon understand, you'll see... He stood up and whispered, reaching out his hand: See you soon, Leonardo Da Vinci. Be watchful, but keep the beautiful openness that is yours.

Leonardo stared at him to try and find a clue in the expression of his face, but Riario had locked himself up even more than usual.There was even something in his eyes the young painter had never seen before... like... like a challenge. He shook the outstretched hand and, intrigued, whispered in response:

"Thank you for your company and conversation, Mr... Mr. Riario."

And then the man was gone.

" I told you, didn’t I ? Tommaso triumphed when he saw Leo’s disappointment as he returned to the bar: You catch, you throw away, that's how bloody things go, with those fucking princes of bel-air. »

***

When Lucas Webb needed advice in matters beyond his entrepreneurial expertise, it was not uncommon for him to call on Leonardo. This came much to the dismay of Piero Da Vinci, Lucas' partner, and father to Leonardo, who found no quality in his bastard of a son to justify such trust. To him, Leonardo was nothing but a messy scatterbrain, who stubbornly stuck to a path that promised no stability.

To Lucas, Leonardo possessed the gift that goes hand in hand with open-mindedness, namely the ability to find solutions off the beaten track, and to perceive nuances in people that he himself could not discern.

The young man was therefore not surprised, on that same Friday, to receive a message from the owner of The Shelter, inviting him to join him and his closest collaborators on the Blackstag car park site, where a filthy abyssal pit would soon replace the pretty "old London" area Leonardo loved.

This second bad news of the day cast yet another shadow on the artist’s mood, which was too obvious for his friends to ignore. Niccolò Machiavelli mistakenly thought he could comfort him by slipping in, out of reach of Tommaso's ear: « He will of course come back here one of these days, you'll see what I tell you!

\- What? What do you mean, what... Oh, mind your own business, kid, get a life !

\- Oh, Ho !, Master Da Vinci forgive me for showing concern for a friend, Niccolò said, raising his hands.

\- Giròlamo Riario has no reason whatsoever to visit that rat-hole again... and on the other hand, the boss wants me on one of his building sites tonight, just when I wanted to go to the movies.

\- Do you want me to come with you?

Leonardo softened and said, while serving a lager:

\- Better not : Lucas sometimes has some strong ideas about the confidentiality of his construction sites. Go figure out why ! But come by the barge after closing time, we'll have something to drink between friends. It'll help soothe the blues. »

Niccolò knew how the evenings at Leonardo's small barge ended, which was completely inappropriate with regard to his written exam the next day, but he accepted. What was the use of friends who were not capable of sacrifice?

***

All that was left of the big Victorian houses in the neighborhood were a few disgusting snags of stone. By the glow of the street lights, the grounds looked like the mouth of a partially toothless monster who had traded its terrifying splendour for the ridicule of a model of "Jaws" dumped in a landfill site.

A yellowish glow came from the basements, where once the silverware and crockery of the flashy kitchens of the gentry's mansions or of the upper middle classes sang. So this was the place to be.

"It would be enough to make the day perfect if my father were there too!"Leonardo said to himself as he walked down the narrow steps towards the communal areas, the only ones spared by the demolition in progress.

Strangely enough, he couldn't hear a single voice. Usually, the meetings to which Lucas summoned him were hectic and noisy, since his presence was only required in deadlocked situations, when neither the boss nor his men could find any imaginative way of getting along with their interlocutors.

But here, nothing. Not a cough... When he made a turn towards the huge kitchen where the light came from, though, he figured it out.

He froze at the door.

All of a sudden, he felt as if he had been transported to a Western movie: to his right, Lucas Webb and his younger brother, Kevin; Arthur Munroe, the accountant, and Piero Da Vinci; to his left, four strangers in funeral suits and...Giròlamo Riario!

A whiff of fear and suspicion mingled with his amazement, his heart missed a beat and his limbs felt slack : "You told me you were about to change for the evening, but I had no idea what kind of uniform you would be wearing," Leonardo said bitterly.

Quite unaffected, Giròlamo turned to the man on his right and introduced him: " Leonardo Da Vinci, Sir.

\- Ah, so that's the one, is it ! said the man, looking at the student with a disgusted pout: I have heard much praise about your clairvoyance, Leonardo Da Vinci... you'll need a lot of it and more conviction still to unravel what has become tangled here, I warn you!

Girolamo took the floor again to address Leonardo:

\- It so happens that your boss and we only have one point of agreement, and that this point of agreement is none other than your ability to see situations in their less... cramped dimensions, we might say.

Leonardo felt that he had been manipulated, deceived, ridiculed, but his pride prevented him from letting his anger show. He bit back the few well-meaning words he could think of throwing at Riario:

\- Don't you, yourself, have the ability to throw smoke in the eyes of your opponents and convince them of the value of dialogue ? It seemed to me that you did... But since I'm here, I'm listening...

A shadow of amusement passed upon Giròlamo Riario's eyes, but he took a step back to let his elder speak... and what Leonardo learned from the latter's mouth first, from Lucas Webb's next, turned his world upside down, to a point of no return.


	4. Tricky business.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leo gets some information about Lucas's business, nothing to put his mind at ease.

As long as our business remained national," said Alessandro della Rovere, your boss and we were working well together. The "Shelter" chain here, the "Refugio" chain in Italy... we would hardly have known about each other if we hadn't exchanged information and services from time to time.... But at a time in which business no longer knows any frontiers, competition has become fierce. It is no longer a question of each of us selling our goods on a very small scale independently of the other. I need the London chain, and I've got the money to buy it... If Lucas Webb will finally agree to sell it.  
\- Wait, Leonardo said, with his index finger raised, what goods are you talking about? Barrels of beer and bottles of Barolo?  
He couldn't help but glance at Giròlamo Riario, who held back a smile.  
Della Rovere turned to Lucas, ironically:  
\- How come, Lucas ? You leave your employees in the dark? They rest their asses on a mountain of illegal goods and you have not warned them about it? That's not very honest on your part, or very prudent for that matter!  
\- Our way of working is not your way, Alessandro. As long as my employees are kept in the dark, they remain safe too. He turned to Leonardo: Sorry, friend, it's no longer your case.  
Leo felt pale, his voice faded:  
\- Damn it! What are you selling at the Shelter? And how come my friends and I aren't aware of your shenanigans?  
\- It all happens at night and in the morning, before opening... some of the barrels in the cellar contain nothing of what's on the pub menu... do I need to draw you a picture?  
Leo's voice came back to him, firmer, unfriendly:  
\- Yes. Oh, please, do ! You'll find I'm not at all familiar with all this. Oh, shit! What exactly are you selling?  
\- Cigarettes, handguns, narcotics, tasers, tear gas, Kevlar, liquid bulletproofing...  
Leo pivoted, hands on his head, then adked :  
\- Your construction companies... ?  
\- No longer suffice to finance all the aid that we have promised around us, they are barely profitable enough to cover the costs of staff, workers, premises and so on.  
\- Nor your lifestyle, I presume! His father was about to come and silence him in his own tough way, but Lucas Webb held him back:  
\- No, Piero. There's no point in denying it, we all benefit from this traffic.  
\- Why London? asked Leonardo, lividly, to Alessandro della Rovere.  
It was Giròlamo who answered:  
\- Partly because this is where the largest reserve of potential collaborators and buyers is to be found.  
\- Smugglers and dealers, let's call them by name... You take advantage of the misery that drives people to engage in illegality!  
\- These people exist all over Europe, of course, but it so happens that other countries are already ... taken over, let's say, at levels that we can't claim outside our own country. We do not enjoy the indulgence of institutions, when they themselves see an interest in keeping these matters at national level.  
\- In other words, when they themselves derive a profit, of whatever nature it may be.  
\- Exactly.  
\- Are you implying, then, that English institutions are less... indulgent, to quote you, than those of other countries?  
\- Not to our knowledge, no, but by its insular nature, England offers a permeability that would outweigh any potential integrity of your police, justice and politics. Thanks to its noticeably more modern cultural influence, It also attracts a category of people who are sensitive to our products... Lucas will no doubt confirm this. He turned to Lucas Webb, who nodded approvingly.  
Leonardo looked at them in turn, leaned against the wall and let himself slide to the floor. He said, in a voice tense to the breaking point:  
\- Give me a moment. Let me digest this and realize that you have indeed just dragged me into this unfathomable shit hole! »

They respected a few minutes of silence, while realizing what they themselves had forgotten or, for some, never known: that you do not switch in two minutes from a world where everything is said and done in full light, to one where every word and every movement must be weighed ; an environment you enter, not with gaiety of heart, but against everything that cries out in you not to set foot in it.

After consulting his competitor with a gaze, and questioning Giròlamo in the same way, Lucas proposed: "Giròlamo, I think that Leonardo will have a better understanding of some of the particulars of our negotiations if you expose them to him... Let's all meet tomorrow at the Shelter after closing... Leonardo, I ask you to listen to our friend. We're all counting on your insight to overcome this predicament. »  
Leonardo looked at Lucas, that square man, always full of fire, for whom he had had so much respect. He wanted to spit in his face. He despised him now.  
But he knew with no need to be told, that he had no other choice now but to follow this recommendation, that his life didn't compare with the benefits they were expecting, that he was just a tiny obstacle that could soon be removed... Definitely swept away. 

He stood up and looked Giròlamo straight in the eye: "Do you intend to tell me about the delicate mysticism that is reflected in my painting, Giròlamo?  
The other one gave a mimic and a shrug of his shoulders to show his impotence:  
\- Alas, it is no longer time for this, Artista... But I hope I can show you other aspects of our world you may not suspect... Where shall we go?  
\- To the only place I know to be discreet enough... My home. »


	5. The snake.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leo has no other choice but to guide Giròlamo Riario to his small barge in Little Venice...

« This way, said Giròlamo when they had returned to the surface, my car is just around the corner. »  
Leonardo followed him, half disorientated, half furious, though the stupor still prevailed. He was silent. It was this stupor, no doubt, that had made him forget that Niccolò — and no doubt the others would have followed — was waiting for him at the barge.  
He only unclenched his teeth to let out a sarcasm: « Why am I not surprised you drive a Jaguar!  
\- Perhaps because I told you early enough that I like beautiful things ? » Giròlamo smiled, ignoring the bitterness of his companion.  
Leonardo looked around him. Only two hours ago he had walked here free as a bird in the sky. His throat tightened. He stared for a moment at the passenger seat before getting in...  
(Black leather... no, probably brown in daylight... Fuck, don't tell me he's pushing vanity to the point of matching the color of his car to the color of his eyes! Hey… Get a hold of yourself, Leonardo Da Vinci: it's no longer time to settle your scores on such a childish level. Remember that you're up against a heavyweight here, not a schoolyard bully !)  
Giròlamo Riario looked at him sideways when he sat down, but kept silent, knowing that it took a lot of time, and also a lot of patience on the part of others, before you could admit that you were suddenly trapped like a rat in the world of unscrupulous adults.  
He turned on the music, “Jungle“, Feel the Heat, and drove off. He had loved that band from the very beginning.  
« Jungle? Leonardo wondered, I imagined you listening to something else. You spoke to me about jazz...  
\- I'm open to most styles... except for rap music. \- No melody, right? \- Hm. »  
Leonardo understood the “Hm“. It was his companion, now, who would enjoy some silence. He had withdrawn, and focused all his attention on driving, despite the lack of traffic. Closed, but relaxed. A sharp profile, with prominent cheekbones and — Leonardo had already noticed this pattern, he was discreetly moistening his lips, keeping them tight.  
He didn't seem to be triumphing, to be overly pleased about his hostage...  
But he had hidden his stratagem well, and Leo wouldn't let him take advantage of the quiet, while he...  
« So it is La Forza, huh?  
The driver looked at him for a moment, a second, no more. They reached Bayswater Road and its famous main road.  
\- Yep! By family tradition, as you might have guessed.  
\- That man... is he a relative?  
\- Yes.  
\- You always call him "sir"?  
\- He demands certain forms to be observed. He alone can allow himself a more relaxed language on occasions... sometimes even filthy.  
\- I don't like him.  
\- Ha! The opposite would have surprised me... and probably disappointed me a little.  
\- It wouldn't have kept me awake, you know, that you were disappointed, I swear... but it tells me that you don't like him either.  
\- My father is not and never was a nice person... and neither is yours, if I'm not mistaken... Which pier in Little Venice?  
\- Your father? But, er... And I don't remember telling you I live in Little Venice!  
\- You did. But I already knew that. Your little boat is called Maureen. I don't know if it refers to someone dear, though.  
\- I don't know that myself. I'm just a renter. But, say, how much do you know about me? I mean, how much did you know before I blissfully surrendered to you after just a few pretty words?  
Giròlamo frowned for a fraction of a second but immediately smiled at him as he moistened his lips:  
\- I only collect practical information. As far as possible, I avoid snooping into the privacy of our collaborators...Which, obviously, I do against our opponents.  
\- Do you like it, Giròlamo, this job? Not much to do with any elevation of the soul! Leo inquired, bitterly.  
\- Not much indeed, but no less than serving grumpy customers... this job doesn't have to please me, it's just a job I do. I try to apply myself to it , to avoid the boredom it would cause me without this attempt at perfection, but it doesn't go any further than that.  
Always that infuriating composure! Leonardo would have liked him to get angry, one way or another. This must have been part of the reason why he could wear the tight suit in the heat of the day... It was a matter of metabolism. "It's all about metabolism," he had said. Perhaps Tommaso wasn't wrong at the end of the race: we were here, indeed, in the presence of a reptile... a cold-blooded animal.  
He brought back the subject of names: « And why 'Riario', anyway? If your father is a Della Rovere, that should also be your name!  
\- My father has no more affection for me than I have for him. I'm his son in administration, but he'd cut out his own tongue rather than acknowledge it in public...  
This was getting ridiculous ! Leo started to wriggle in his comfortable seat :  
\- Do you always answer every question you're asked?  
\- I want you to know where you will be stepping next, Da Vinci, this is mined territory, you know… Despite being the serpent in the bible, one still has one’s own personal moral code. If you ever utter the word "son" about me in presence of my father, he'll make you pay dearly for it.  
(So, yes, by his own admission, a snake!)  
\- I feel I'm going to love to hate you, Riario, he said.  
His companion chuckled:  
\- I'll do everything, if necessary, to satisfy you beyond your expectations... but first let's avoid acting as if we held the key to each other, shall we ? It will spare us some errors of judgment and waste of time.  
***  
Tommaso jumped to his feet : « What the fuck… ? »

Vanessa blushed, a smile of pure delight on her lips, and clapped her hands once, before immobilizing them between her knees.

Niccolò watched, gawking ... 

« What's he doing here? Tom barked, pointing a finger at the visitor.  
— Calm down, Tom… I'm sorry, you all, I need you to go ... Mr. Riario and I have some very important things to discuss...  
— I apologize for ruining the party, but I second this, Riario confirmed… For your own sakes, I should prefer you do not share some information I’m about to divulge  
Tommaso took a step forward to shout, close to Riario's nose :  
— Is that a new code for “Leave immediately, good fuck in sight"?  
Before anyone could figure it out, Riario pulled the tall, muscular man down to his knees, one arm behind his back, and leaned over him:  
\- If I intended to have such a delightful time with your boyfriend, you primate, I’d definitely have let you know that much with a little more refinement.  
\- Leo isn't...  
\- No. And that's what makes you snappy as a mongrel... he released him, pushing him away, and turned to the others: Sorry, I cannot stand rudeness.  
Tom was coming back, behind him, Riario elbowed him in the chin, then pivoted to grab his throat. Tommaso surrendered and left, enraged.  
Leonardo came to his senses:  
\- Come on, be nice, guys, it's really important... we'll see each-other at the Shelter tomorrow...  
Vanessa kissed him and left without a word, daring to smile at the Italian; Niccolò mumbled something about an exam and waved goodbye.  
\- Wow! Where did you learn to tame harmless people, I'm curious? Leonardo said, angrily, when they were out.  
\- Rudeness and insults are not harmless at all, Da Vinci, they are meant to demean you. To tolerate them amounts to inviting people to treat you as their doormat.  
\- Will you at least let me judge my friends in person?  
\- Do as you wish, but there's no way I'm going to let that kind of innuendo get through to me.  
\- Oh! We're a little sensitive on the sex issue, aren't we ! Leonardo triumphed.  
\- I respect other people's privacy, and I intend to be likewise treated.  
Leonardo thought it was only fair and, decreeing a ceasefire, smiled:  
\- Yes, let's close this subject... I'll make us some coffee. Lucas Webb is not very good at entertaining guests, you always dehydrate at his meetings. Sit down wherever you like, I'll be right back. »


	6. Family business.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alessandro della Rovere, a study in pink and cream.  
> Giròlamo Riario, an attempt at a close-up.

In his suite at the Hilton, Alessandro della Rovere was rubbing his hands. Lucas Webb's resistance didn't seem as fierce as he had first imagined, and Riario had done a good job. He had gained a good dose of confidence from the contractor and perhaps even more from this two-bit painter. The man doubted that the boy could live up to the praise his captain had given him, but if that could motivate Riario, then so be it, it would only be to the advantage of his own schemes.

He was savouring his champagne in a majestic armchair of pink and cream chintz, in the collected silence he imposed on his men in his presence.

They were extremely bored, watching him, waiting on the lookout, for a comment or an order, and this redoubled the pasha's enjoyment.

Lupo Mercuri was staring with envy at the front page of the last edition of the Business News. The treasurer was making personal investments, diverting funds from the organization, which Della Rovere knew. When the time was ripe, he would have his head chopped off for this, as soon as the Pasha found the right person to replace him... Why not that Piero da Vinci ? He would ponder over that possibility.

Giovanni della Rovere, his nephew, staring beyond the city itself as if it were covered by some dense fog, must be thinking of his lovely little wife, who had been rushed to the clinic two days earlier. This muscle-bound soldier would not even venture to ask permission for a phone call to check up on her. No, he would compliantly wait for his uncle's good will.

Yes, Alessandro was smiling at the angels for the gift of so much dedication, of so much power. 

All of them, down to the most insignificant, all of them, from the top to the bottom of the Forza, were at the mercy of one of his sighs of comfort or annoyance.

Then he would prolong the pleasure, make the champagne last and turn the pages of some magazine with the applied slowness of a scholar discovering the original edition of a precious manuscript. Such was his design.  
Such hours did not drag on, for him, they radiated.

"Go and give Graziella a call, Giovanni, it will please her. " he finally suggested, looking benevolent.  
The tall man thanked him by bowing as the soldier he really was; and almost rushed out to the corridor, to make his phone call.

Alessandro laughed quietly, grabbed a Granny-smith from the dish in front of him and crunched it with jubilant ferocity.  
  
***

« Of course, it is as it looks! Riario exclaimed, taking a Swedish roll from the dish Leo had brought with him. The problem is... the one thing that keeps you from letting go once you set foot in there, is that Forza holds all your family and friends. It also provides free food to thousands of the poor, which is how it ensures the complicity of the people in the slums. As for the “elite“, the chosen ones, you know how it works...  
— When you say for free, you probably mean in exchange for services? I imagine a Dickensian world where kids are stealing and dealing, and little girls are selling themselves…  
— This happens, but not among the very poor, who receive a monthly allowance from Forza. When I say free, I mean it literally.   
— Somehow, it's your charity work, Leo scoffed bitterly.  
Riario swallowed and took a swig of coffee:  
— With a lot of cynicism, you could put it this way... I prefer to see it as an attempt to atone for past, present and future sins. I'll bet Lucas Webb does the same thing. »

Leo was seized by a souvenir. He stood up and began to pace the confined space of his boat.  
Outside, London was awakening in the distance. The silence no longer had the same density, the veil was tearing a little.

Leo had one hand on his forehead, the other sweeping the air as if searching for a lost page... 

"Yes! The strikers in Yorkshire ! The assembly two years ago. People came to offer their services to break the strike. Lucas refused, said he had another solution, that he was going to solve the problem "the Durham way". Yes, that's probably what happened. He stopped, stared at Riario and came to sit down in front of him: Why did you offer me for this mediation, Riario?  
— I assure you didn't do any such thing. Lucas was the one who bragged about your talent. I could have protested, I could have said no, but...  
It was the first time he ever betrayed any kind of unease in presence of Leo:  
— But... ? the latter insisted.  
— I'm going to tell you something only my cousin, Giovanni della Rovere, knows about. By doing so, I am providing you with a weapon that you could use against me at any time, however, I have no choice but to trust you, and what has been haunting me for five years is stronger than fear anyway.  
Leonardo was looking at him in expectation, Riario, intense and inquiring, was withstanding his gaze. He rubbed the palms of his hands on his knees, struck them and launched himself into the dangerous confession :  
— Five years ago, Forza bought land in Sicily... to be accurate, it signed up as a potential buyer with the local authorities. My father wanted to build a luxury hotel or a holiday village there, well, some new madness of the sort. As usual, I was assigned to organise a soil survey and to carry out a sounding on the economic potential of such a venture... But one evening someone contacted me, begging me not to destroy what could be hidden in the subsoil of this plot of land, a woman whom I thought was a bit crazy, so anachronistic she looked... You know the mosaics of the Basilica of San Vitale in Ravenna? Well, you would have bet she had just walked right out of one of those... I know! I know! You think I had drunk too much Barolo, he smiled, when he saw Leo in disbelief, but everything was true to the model, I swear to you: the dress, the headdress, everything ! Anyway, I got interested and...  
— You discovered that, indeed, the ground was hiding something.  
Riario came to life:  
— A treasure, Leonardo! ... Given the necessary discretion, we're only at the beginning of the excavations, but in the opinion of my team itself, it's unheard of! So, I submitted my reports to the Forza, claiming that the geological study was nothing close to convincing and that, although the population was very favorable and even enthusiastic, this project was a real sinkhole that guaranteed no return on investment, only the opposite.  
— So, the population was really grateful to see this infrastructure come into being?  
— Not at all! They were very hostile to it. But telling Della Rovere this, would have ensured he would embrace the struggle like a personal vendetta. I won : he dropped the project, shifted his attention to another area, and I invested everything I had in the excavations... I hired a very modest team, persuaded the city authorities that this was a secret mission of the utmost importance to Forza, and that they would only go through my cousin and me for any communication concerning the excavations... and... and I need you, he concluded abruptly.  
Leo looked round-eyed:  
— Me? Why me?  
— For the same reasons that motivates Lucas when he calls on you: your sense of observation, of deduction and your intellect, which, instead of neglecting some doors, opens them all, one after the other.  
Leonardo ran his hands over his face, stared at his companion, then, still silent, went to make them another coffee in the machine and came back:  
— How could I justify my trips to Italy without betraying myself to Lucas? As you personally have implied, one doesn't just leave the Forza and get away with it !  
— Announce tomorrow that you are joining us, pretend that you felt betrayed for being kept in the dark about Webb's activities. I will protect you and keep you away from any criminal activities that would offend you. I can do that, Da Vinci, I'm Forza's number two, I hold many keys...  
— Let me think about that. I don't want to follow you blindly, under the influence of your enthusiasm.  
— Of course you don't. There's still time for tomorrow.  
— Just one more thing... these people who are collaborating on your research... are they doing it willingly or are you using your father's methods to... motivate them?  
Giròlamo squeezed his lips, in his usual way:  
— No, only their passion drives them, no need for such deplorable subterfuge.  
Leo put one hand on his arm as he stood up, Riario had a brief withdrawal reaction and apologized:  
— I'm sorry... Touching is not something I'm familiar with, as you may have noticed. We are not taught that in the ranks of Forza's militia.  
Leo blinked and nodded his head, disappeared and returned with the coffees:  
— I touch people very spontaneously, it's in my nature, I forget how embarrassing it can feel. »

They drank in silence, scanning through the entire conversation, and a few minutes later Leo walked Riario back to his car.  
On the car-door, the word: "PRICK" had been carved in capital letters with some steal object.

"It would appear I've just made a new friend! "Riario commented.


	7. Broken glass...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get heated at The Shelter.

Leonardo was fixing the bottle-green fabric with gold patterns that lined the pub walls. There, between two bowls of archery tournaments that Lucas had won in the past, lay perhaps the solution to his problem. Anyway, he didn't want to see the faces of his three friends as he was about to tell them what he had learned the day before.

The pub had just emptied, after a day of tension between them. They had spent hours keeping quiet, giving and receiving orders and avoiding each other's gaze. Nico had slipped into the kitchen after his morning exam, running along the walls like a criminal; Vanessa had just kissed them and slipped Leo a "It's going to be okay! " As for Tom... well, Tom had been himself: a joker with pretty girls and boys, unbearable with Leo and anything that could tinkle, rattle or knock.

At midnight, Leo put the last of the stubborn customers outside and there, sitting on the table closest to the bar, watched Vanessa gather her bag, her jacket and put on her street shoes, postponing to the extreme limit the moment to tell them: « Wait!“

« Wait ! I have to tell the three of you some news that will knock you out on the spot.  
She turned around when she already had one hand on the doorknob, the boys interrupted their movements and approached, arms folded on his chests and head high for Tommaso; hands behind his back and eyes wide open for Nico.  
— Wait, I know! Tom said. Your honey talker is lousy in bed!  
— Shut up, Tom! It's got nothing to do with your current fixation... Lucas Webb has been using us for over two years right on top of some sort of Ali Baba's cavern for high-flying delinquents. He raised one hand to counter the choral interruption: under our feet, right here, are weapons, drugs, bullet-proof vests and the like. And the most awful thing to me is that I am the one who made you come here.  
The 'you're kidding? ", "that can't be true" and "holy shit" came out. Leo gave them their space before resuming:  
— Lucas will be landing in 15 minutes with his associates and some men from La Forza who want to buy his pubs.  
— La Forza? Nico took his head in his hands.  
— Let me guess, Tom said, with that tricky wop, I bet !  
Leo gave him a sideways glance and confirmed with a nod.  
— I knew it! Shit, I knew it! Tommaso kicked the nearest chair, turned around and pointed a finger at his friend.  
Leo cut it :  
— I know ! You warned me. I don't deny it. But I beg all three of you to be calm in their presence, he pleaded, as you know, these people do not joke around.  
— You mean we have to be present? said Vanessa.  
— Lucas insists on it. I hope he won't keep you for the whole negotiation, but I cannot guarantee it.  
— What negotiation? Tommaso insisted.  
— The head of the Forza wants to buy back all the Shelters from Lucas, like I told you. Of course, Lucas refuses to give them to him... I beg you not to interfere, no matter what's being said here!  
— So, we'd work for those rotten guys? asked Nico.  
— I hope we can still avoid it.  
— Shit, Leo! See where you've led us, with your bullshit amourous transports over the first well-dressed bastard that comes along? Tommaso barked.  
— Giròlamo Riario is only the mediator in this case, the plan didn't come from him and the decision to involve me is a stroke of genius signed Lucas Webb.  
— Said his reptilian majesty, no doubt?  
— No, Lucas himself told me... And beware of your impulses, in front of Riario: your little message on his car wasn't very wise.  
— I hope he choked of rage!  
— A snake, you said it yourself, Tom, and a snake doesn't go into a rage: it bites, then postpones the rest of the retaliation.  
— What did you two talk about last night?  
— La Forza, mainly.  
Tom glared at him with two angry black eyes:  
— Yeah, well, see, it's the "mainly" that bothers me.  
— You'll have to deal with it, though.  
— OKAY. We'll try not to make too many films about what happened between, let's say, two o'clock and four twenty-five!  
Leo stood up:  
— I don't believe this! Did you really keep a lookout?  
— And the way things turned out, I don't regret it!"

Outside, you could hear doors slamming. The four of them looked at each other: the moment had come. 

Leonardo immediately saw that the presence of his friends displeased Riario. At first he thought it was because of the enmity between him and Tom, but Della Rovere's attitude soon made him reconsider his conclusion.  
Once Lucas had introduced them, the tall man in a long white kurta embroidered with gold approached the two younger ones, looking like a pasha - belly forward, swinging his arms, a big smile on his lips. He put his hands on their shoulders: "Oh! Oh! It seems you are hiding angels in this unsightly place, Webb! Michelangelo himself wouldn't disavow these blond and redheads! He palpated a lock of Nico's and Vanessa's hair without concealing his exaltation.  
Leo's and Riario's questioning and embarrassed eyes met. The message could not have been clearer.  
— How old are you children?" the man asked.  
— Sixteen, said Vanessa, a little too quickly.  
— Hm! Let's make it fifteen, by all means. And you, young Uriel?  
— Seventeen, sir, Nico said, in a very low voice and now scarlet in the face.  
\- And so the age-old question of the sex of angels was solved!" Della Rovere declared.

He turned away as if reluctantly and sat down at a table. His men stood behind him, at attention, or almost at attention.  
Lucas took his place in front of him with a scraping noise from his chair, and Della Rovere immediately got to the point, while Tom was still looking at his younger friends, worried, his Adam's apple going up and down as in a game of bilboquet.

"Well, Da Vinci! Do you now have a clearer idea of the situation?  
— I think so, said Leo. Count Riario has given me a good explanation of the ins and outs of your approach.  
Della Rovere turned his head a little in the direction of his son, but did not look at him:  
— Of course, you had to brag about your title!  
Riario opened his mouth, but immediately closed it again.  
— He didn't do anything of the sort, Leo corrected, but I, too, like to do the little preliminary research that is required before meeting strangers.  
— So... How's that? What do you suggest? Let's see if your genius is up to what I've been told! said the man, scorn on his lips.  
Leo began to walk the width of the table, to the left and to the right of the two parties:  
— Genius is a big word, but logic is, it seems to me, coming to my rescue... He stopped and looked at him: don't you think the Webb Co. worksites would be more suitable to the kind of... er... business you're thinking of?  
You could hear them breathing. Piero da Vinci swore between his teeth.  
— I understand they are on the verge of bankruptcy, if not already lost, Artista! remarked Riario.  
— And so they will remain for as long as they serve only their primary purpose... But think of the number of vehicles coming in and out of construction sites of this importance, think of the multiple possibilities of storing what you want, Giròlamo! Oh, yes... I can see you're following me!  
— But, Lucas protested... He turned to his associates: And of course not one of you had thought of that! And then to Leo: and what would I gain from selling all my construction sites?  
— First of all, the opportunity to drop this burden: you said so yourself yesterday... and nothing would prevent you from opening other Shelters with the proceeds of the sale... I think Mr. Della Rovere would have no problem with that?  
Leo stared at the man with a broad, cheeky smile, the Pasha squeezed the armrests of his chair:  
— Hm! I confess I didn't think about the building sites... Neither did you, Riario! What are you thinking about lately?  
His captain coughed and squeezed his lips a little, then admitted with half a smile but with some amusement in his eyes:  
— It's true it's brilliant, Da Vinci!  
— Say, Da Vinci, said Della Rovere, fanning his face with a pub fare, how would you like to join Forza? I pay my people very well and they enjoy benefits that only a few can enjoy. Would you be interested?  
Leo smiled at him:  
— I'd say no, Mr. Della Rovere... My income may be low, my boss's activities criminal, but to date, he's never tried to turn me into a castrato... I am doing very well, I think, in comparison.  
Riario turned pale and blinked several times. Leo caught himself thinking that he had thought it impossible to see him any paler than he already naturally was; Tommaso couldn't hold back a giggle, Nico looked at Leo, gawking, and Vanessa blushed and lowered her eyes.  
— As you wish, my boy, the pasha concluded as he rose to his feet. Then, addressing Lucas Webb: My lawyers and accountants will contact you this very week, Webb.  
He headed for the door, followed by his men. Not a handshake, not a salute.  
Leo, hands at the waistband of his low-cut trousers, watched them walk away from underneath the strands of his long hair and saw Riario linger. He joined him.  
Tommaso, on seeing this, teased, loud and clear:  
— How does it feel, Count, to be called a capon in front of the whole assembly?  
Riario looked him straight in the eye:  
— These are just the vicissitudes of the charge, Masini, and I've been through worse, take my word for it. He turned to Leo and whispered, in the hoarseness of his voice: I'm not giving up hope of changing your mind, Da Vinci: you promised you'd love to hate me, I can arrange that, I told you.  
— As you wish, Count. But your excavations will be carried out without me.  
Riario put one hand on his shoulder and, with a conspicuous wink, concluded before leaving:  
— We'll see, Leonardo, we'll see!  
— What a jerk! Tom said when he closed the door.  
Leo raised a finger:  
— Please, don't persuade yourself of that, Tommaso, or you' ll probably get yourself in trouble.  
Then Lucas Webb came out of his stupor and stamping his foot, yelled out:  
— Stop that childish chit-chat ! Both of you! You just sold my business to that vermin Della Rovere, Da Vinci! He knocked the table over: Give me a fucking good explanation for that!  
Leo raised his voice in equal measure and stepped forward to point his index finger at him:  
— When you tell me what right you had to put the four of us in danger! You know Forza's methods, no one ignores them... by getting me into your shenanigans, you automatically implicated Vanessa, Niccolò and Tommaso... And I would have been gentle? Are you fucking kidding me, ? »  
Lucas' face turned crimson, he threw himself on his employee, and from there, it was nothing but broken chairs and glass in the pub.

Across the street, Alessandro della Rovere smiled at the noise and turned to Giròlamo: "That little redhead, Riario, you will bring her to me at the hotel tomorrow afternoon. »


	8. Those sleepless nights...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The meeting at the pub brings some unrest, disappointment and evil intentions.

His sheets were wet through with sweat. Last week's storm hadn't cooled anything at all, it had just left enough water for the air to soak up the sticky wetness you normally associate with other far-away places, such as Brazil or New Orleans.

Leonardo tried to lie down on his left side, only to find himself immediately tormented by a bruise ; tried lying on his back, but it now seemed to him that the mattress of his berth was sweating with fever.

On the edge of his nerves, he eventually sat down and moaned: « Get out of my goddamn brain! »

Damn it, he was losing his mind! Where did he get these words that he hadn't thought... or wasn't aware he was thinking?

He hated him!

So it was a done deal? Yes. He'd reached the stage of hatred much faster than he'd expected.

Only, it didn't have the flavour he had hoped for. It wasn't soothing or satisfying, it wasn't the comforting fairy he had imagined, bent over him with a sweet smile on her face. Instead, it appeared she had long, sharp teeth, and her lizard eyes reminded him of death.

He had wished for hatred to erase the images that inspired him so much joy, so much naive pleasure, and, yes, it had to be acknowledged, desire.

What a fool he had been, to fall for this smoothie !

Riario's alleged sincerity had touched him, he had seemed so honest when he spoke to him about his paintings! So insightful, too ! So, yes, he was furious. Furious and... he had never been so afraid in his life.

No one had ever had such an impact on him in such a short time. How can you handle attraction, contempt, sympathy, fear, trust and threat all at once?

A leaden bar weighed down across his chest and he was sucking in warm, liquid air in small, quick gulps. He was drowning.

Clinging to the edge of his bed with both hands, to the point of whitening his phalanges, he let tears flow from his eyes, tears of which he knew nothing, they were just treacherous strangers filling his eyes.

« _Seek! Seek!_ » A woman's voice blew in...

« The dress, the headdress, everything! »…

« _Search! Seek, Artista!_ »

The Byzantine woman to his left was smiling. He threw his opium pipe at her. She faded away with a sarcastic laugh.

The crying turned into sobs. He couldn't understand it. 

*** 

Giròlamo carelessly threw the keys of the Jaguar on the chest of drawers and went to sit on his bed without even taking off his three-quarter jacket, which he usually took so much care of.

He hid his face in his hands.

What was the point of these expensive clothes, this shamefully expensive room, all the luxury he surrounded himself with, here? What were they supposed to fill?

He didn't want to think about it. Not now. First he had to regain a little serenity, calm his heartbeat, and above all, forget the contempt under the words, the mockery in the eyes...

Da Vinci was right, though. He was a coward for blindly obeying his twisted father, a coward for clinging to an existence that was not worthwhile, that served nothing or no one.

And on top of this, tomorrow he would have to hand over this redheaded young girl to the Pasha, without blinking, without shirking... all that to save this sterile life of his...

But the Artista ? Not him! That insult was so unlike the man he had thought he saw in him! The whole world could be vile and ruthless, but not him... and yet!

He had earned that rebuke, no doubt. For the first time, his body had taken over, he had not endured or submitted to another, he had dared to desire this man, to want to hug him, kiss him, take him, be taken by him.

What madness and what an insult to God!

Who was he to dare to feel this love, or that other one, for that matter!

It seemed to him that his heart was going to explode in his chest and that these sobs, there, accumulated in his throat, were going to choke him...

« _Search! Seek! Save me!_ »

He took his hands from his face : « For pity's sake, not now, Fausta, he murmured, in a chopped voice, I haven't slept more than two hours a night for two months! I beg you, let me find some rest! »

« _Enemies confess their love_ »

He turned to the apparition and let out a laugh that was too bitter to really mean one: « Yes, well, not all of them apparently! »

« _A racing heart…_ »

« Stop it ! Please, do stop it! » he pleaded, getting up a little too briskly. He staggered, sat back down.

The crying took over, to thrust even more shame upon him.

***

Vanessa could feel a heavy sweat running down her back, and the pearl grey top she had put on after the dance class before going to the Shelter was stained with an ugly ring on her chest, between her breasts. Thin red streaks of hair stuck to her forehead. The Hilton's air conditioning is of no use against the reaction of your instincts.

Giròlamo Riario had intercepted her just a stone's throw from the pub, invited her to get into his car, and, a little out of sympathy, a lot out of pride in riding in such attractive company and in such a car — another Jaguar than the one marked by Tommaso — she had accepted.

He had said, mysteriously but gravely: « Alessandro della Rovere wants to see you. Whatever happens, obey him. I would be sorry if anything happened to you. »

It was at this point, of course, that the anxiety arose, her throat tightened and her breathing became more difficult. But she had obeyed, as Riario had advised her to. Della Rovere had been attentive, had offered her champagne, had asked her to dance for him, after learning where she was coming from. She had acted as a marionette and followed the instructions.

But now... Now he had approached and pulled her forcefully onto his lap.He was breathing a strong breath of garlic mixed with tobacco on her cheek ; a warm, thick tongue was running over the thin skin of her neck, and, beneath her top, a rough hand violently squeezed her left breast.

She shouted.

« Shhh! he soothed. Be docile, beautiful angel.You wouldn't want anything to happen to one of your friends, would you? »

He grabbed the neckline of her light garment and ripped it off with a sharp thrust, injuring her neck and marking her skin.

She muffled another scream. He congratulated her on this and, thinking it would no doubt titillate her, began to describe in crude terms what her alabaster beauty was awakening in him.

« Father! An emergency! »

The old man immediately pushed her away as if, as an unwanted little dog, she had thrown herself at him. « Have you lost your mind, Riario? roared Della Rovere.

— Excuse me. But I couldn't leave you in the dark about the events taking place in Turin.

— Turin! Again!

— Giovanni is waiting in your office for an accurate report.

— Pack up this bird, Girolamo, and deliver her wherever you see fit. I should have chosen the other one: boys are less picky.

Behind his back, while he was checking the e-mails he was receiving from Italy, Girolamo nodded to Vanessa and took a harsh and scornful tone:

— I'll take you home, Miss Moschella. He untied the large scarf he wore as a tie around his neck and handed it to her: here, make something to cover yourself with.

At last Della Rovere disappeared without a word and the Count slipped to the girl:

— You've done well. Let me apologize, because he will not do it.

— You... you came at the right time, you know, she said as they were leaving the hotel. Tears of relief and humiliation were shining in her eyes. A flutter of the eyelids released them.

— I was waiting outside the door. I wouldn't have let you go through what I've witnessed too many times, Vanessa. »

They got back in the car and drove quietly. London was the same as it always was. A capital doesn't change just because some insignificant young girl gets bullied by a cad.

As they approached The Shelter, she finally asked the question that had been burning on her lips: « Is... Is he really your father?

— Yes, but neither he nor I value that lineage, and we don't advertise it. I am useful to him, and I have to remain so, but he feels nothing but disgust for me, and it is reciprocal.

She put her hand on his, at the wheel. He didn't recoil.

— Thank you » she simply said.


	9. A gift, a fight...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riario is a killer and Leo can be a shitty friend, occasionally.

For three days, no one dared approach Leo.  
Irascible, clumsy in his gestures, even the regulars in the pub kept to the bare minimum of conversation.

At the academy, it was the person in charge of the current exhibition who paid the price, a tall, very skinny guy who always gave the impression, when he walked, that his limbs were going to come loose and fall to the ground.  
He had stopped next to Leonardo and seemed to be watching him. His right elbow was resting on his left forearm and he was holding his chin as he spoke. He always did this, the students knew that he had a complex about this bean-shaped growth.

"We have an offer for one of your paintings, Leonardo, he said, we're just waiting for your approval to ship it to its potential buyer.  
\- Which one?" Leo said, laconically and suspiciously, adding a few touches of Sienna to his subject's garment.  
\- "Hands in prayer".  
\- Here, of course!  
\- I beg your pardon?  
\- I have strong suspicions about the identity of the potential buyer. I'm afraid it's a NO.  
With an irritated gesture, he threw his brush into the solvent.  
\- His offer is very interesting, the poor man remarked, taken aback.  
\- Not good enough.  
The other watched him bully the bristles of the brush he was wiping:  
\- I haven't even told you...  
Leo cut it off, looking at him as if he wanted to bite him:  
\- It'll never be enough. Do you understand what I'm saying? It's not my painting that this man is buying, it's me!  
The man blushed violently. He knew the legend of this student's debauched life, but what the hell!  
\- Oh! In this case, it's something else entirely, of course! How can an artist of your quality be treated like a vulgar escort...  
Leo burst out laughing and, as he stood up to put away his equipment, put one hand on the arm of the other:  
\- You're not getting it at all, Simps... If it was just my body, I'd be dialling that buyer's number right now. And believe me, so would you!  
\- Da Vinci!  
\- Come on, don't beat yourself up so badly... But in this case, it's my soul he wants to buy, and my soul is not for sale... I must go, Simps, I'm expected at the pub... My Saint John the Baptist will have to wait until tomorrow.  
\- It's strange, said the intruder again, you usually start by painting the eyes first.  
\- That's the whole point... Come on, get out of the way, man, please! Don't turn around like a wasp chasing a soda pop. I assure you, you wouldn't like to see me angry! »

Simpson frowned, pursed his lips and turned his back. Leo watched him walk away and smiled at the look of him. He put so much effort into looking dignified that his body protested and demanded its own independence.  
It must have been awful to feel that bad about yourself.  
  
Just as on other days, Leo was tempted to make a detour to the library to consult what resources it had for Arabic-Norman art. He would stay there, standing in front of the entrance, take a few steps to get away from it, and then come back...  
No, he shouldn't have. In spite of everything, it was a question of digging in a field he knew very little about. He checked the business hours.  
But to shut up the feverish curiosity that had gripped him for three days... (New acquaintances, Leo!) He turned his back on the door again. No !  
(Discovering remains that no one has ever seen, Leo !)  
He took one last look back, then hurried to his bus stop as if he were running away from purgatory. 

***  
  
Finally, it was raining!  
Instead of seeking refuge inside, customers wanted to dance on the sidewalk and asked to fold up the tarpaulin covering the terrace. No way, of course, and they didn't really believe it when they made their request, but it was just a way of saying: we're happy, we're finally going to get some fresh air. Leo himself felt won over by this youthful joy. His smile would come back to him here and there as the afternoon wore on.

And then came eight o'clock.

Lucas entered, followed by Riario. The boss glanced furiously at the beer pumps, Riario nodded discreetly. They both made their way to the table they'd occupied the first time.  
(The wall in the back, the door and the fire extinguisher nearby...)Leonardo remembered .  
Lucas took out some papers and Riario opened his MacBook. He came to the bar to get the drinks Two coffees this time. The mood was probably no longer for Barolo.  
"No one to cajole with a good wine, Count? said Leo, mockingly.  
But the Count never answered him, for Vanessa had just come out of the kitchen to greet him with a broad smile.  
\- Vanessa! he said, cheerfully. How are you?  
\- I'm fine. I'm fine. Very well, thank you sir... I... she took a small package out from under the counter. Leo had been vaguely wondering for three days what it might be, but he hadn't paid much attention to it.  
\- I don't suppose you ache for music, but... it's a recording of Orthodox songs taken from my school choir. I thought it would be more personal than another CD...  
He picked up the package, clenched his lips several times, obviously moved:  
\- I, uh... I don't know what to say... I'm really happy about this. But, Vanessa, I... I mean, thank you, really.  
He slipped the gift into his jacket pocket and looked at her, blinking once, slowly, and nodding for another sign of gratitude, then approached the cash register to pay for his drinks.  
Tommaso cashed them in and even found a " thank you " somewhere in the " civilized mode " column of his repertoire.  
\- You've all had an epiphany, or what?" Leo said, stunned, when Riario was halfway to his table.  
The others ignored him.  
Incomprehensible!  
  
Two seconds later, four men appeared in the pub, armed with guns. The customers ran away as the attackers surrounded the back table, shouting "Lucas Webb! Lucas Webb! You're following us! »

He raised his hands, and looked, petrified, at the faces of his attackers, 

Riario jumped.  
Two blades magically came out from under his sleeves.  
Suddenly, he slashed the wrists that held the weapons on either side. The men screamed, blood spurted.  
Straight at the two facing him, he plunged, crouched, to slash their hocks and then, as they bent down, plunged the two blades into their necks.  
A swivel to finish off the first two and the die was cast.  
  
No one said a word. They hadn't had time to see anything.  
But the sirens could already be heard down on Bayswater Road...  
The Count kicked the door to the courtyard, took Lucas Webb by the arm, and dragged him behind him.

"Tom... you're cleaning up all their junk, computers and papers, said Leo... just leave the cups and spill them, it'll make it look more authentic.  
\- How's that?  
\- We won't have to explain that an alien single-handedly slaughtered four guys...  
\- Where the hell does this guy come from? Tom said as he went to gather the stuff of the two runaways. I always knew he was related to Satan and his gang! » 

***

Niccolò had been listening to the story of the fight and the insightful comments while stuffing himself with the peanuts he had brought for the evening on the Maureen. Vanessa had thought about pizza - vegetarian for Leo - and Tom had stolen a block of parmesan from a creamery that none of the four friends ever frequented. It was a basic principle, never steal from your regular shopkeepers.

"Will you finally explain to me what's worth so much leniency on your part to this Judas?" Leo asked, as he decapped the beers as if he was tearing the guilty's neck off.  
\- You're kidding, right? said Tom, hopeful.  
\- Yeah, well, I know there's no question of leniency on your part, Tom, but... Well, Vanessa! You looked like a groupie in front of her favorite singer tonight. And this gift...!  
\- Well, I think it's rather normal that she had a little gesture of attention," Nico protested.  
\- You don't count. If Vanessa said it's chilly outside in the middle of a heat wave, you'd agree with her.  
Nico, sulking, resumed peanuts.  
\- I bet he doesn't even remember what happened at that bastard's hotel anymore, he warned the others.  
\- What? What... what happened?" Leonardo indeed asked.  
Vanessa looked at him, slammed the pizza wheel on the coffee table and walked out.  
\- Leo, you're not serious? Tommaso repeated...  
\- Shit! Stop being secretive! Tell me, instead of looking at me like I'm pretending to be the risen Christ!  
Tom struck his forehead, Nico said:  
\- You're such a piece of shit, as a friend when you put your mind to it... and he recounted Vanessa's sad misadventure.  
\- I... and I knew about it? Leo wondered when he was finished.  
\- We talked about it for a whole hour with her, trying to cheer her up. You were there!  
Leonardo rubbed his face:  
\- I have to stop this bad trip... I... I have visions at night, I only think about... discovering something else, another world...  
\- And you smoke a lot of that stuff, I bet, Tom said, with a movement of the head towards the opium pipe.  
\- I can't fall asleep without it, or just think! Shit, what a jerk... I'm going to get Nessa. He got up, but turned around to make his point, before he went out: still, if he hadn't kidnapped her in the first place, he wouldn't have had to pull her out of that bad patch either!  
\- That's it. If you're gonna dream, dream big ! Nico laughed. Even Riario wouldn't dare refuse an order from his bastard father, you know that, right? Or haven't you figured out yet what La Forza is?"


	10. Catania

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laura Cereta and a new attempt at getting Leonardo as an assistant archaeologist.

Laura Cereta was waiting for Giròlamo at the airport of Palermo with the off-road vehicle of the construction site.  
"Departure in a hurry?" she worried, checking her bun of blond hair.  
\- Yes. I have to disappear for a while from my father's entourage. I played a trick on him recently. Some guys from Turin betrayed the stratagem. He's furious, and it would appear I still care about my skin, in spite of everything.  
\- Any news of your potential recruit?  
She lit him a cigarette. He loved to drive, so she had automatically left the wheel to him.  
\- He's not coming.  
\- Oh, damn it!  
\- Does that make you regret getting rid of Rodrigo? he smiled, anticipating the answer.  
\- That pig? My God, no! The very memory of him still gives me the creeps. How I could lived with him for twenty years is a mystery to me... But we have made good progress, you'll see... the third wall has revealed some surprising things.  
He became animated:  
\- Oh! I can't wait to see it! I found a document that seems interesting to me, in London... in my suitcase, look!  
She turned to the back seat, found the briefcase and opened it. Her eyes fell upon a photograph:  
\- It's remarkable... is it from...  
\- Da Vinci. I wanted to buy it from him, but he guessed that the offer came from me and let me know through the intermediary that his conscience was not for sale.  
She had watched him and asked:  
\- What's he like?  
\- Brilliant, warm, sometimes a little naive, free, very free and...  
\- And?  
\- Insensitive when needed.  
\- Alas, all this makes me want to meet him even more. »

She put the photo aside with a determined gesture, found the document in the library of the British Museum and immersed herself in reading it.  
He stared at the monotonous road, eager to find out what had been laid bare, but haunted by a certain melancholic tinge to the soul.  
He had left too many hovering shadows in his London painting.

***  
  
Shortly after Leo and Vanessa joined the other two inside the Maureen, they heard footsteps on the stairs. There was a gentle knock on the door.  
Leo opened and, grumpy, turned away from the visitor, waving to him to come in.  
" I'm sorry for disturbing yet another friendly meeting, Riario said, but I'm leaving tomorrow and...  
\- We have your documents and computer, Leo said. Sit down, Count. After what we've seen tonight, you'll understand... He came to life: Jesus Christ, to think I had fancied you were a bureaucrat! Where did you learn to fight like that?  
\- I think I told you, Artista: in the Forza militia. I joined when I was twelve, that's a long training period, until I was twenty-five, right? Field experience did the rest.  
He glanced at the others, waiting for a shot from Tommaso or Nico. It did not come.  
\- You execute people? Leo wanted to know.  
\- Yes.  
\- Do you torture them?  
\- It can happen, when greater discretion is required.  
\- Shit! Said the artist. He passed his hands over his face and pivoted... You are saying this like a baker would state "I baked my bread". Is it really that commonplace for you?  
\- It is not. Nor is it my favorite part of the job, but... well, it's La Forza, isn't it, not UNESCO !  
Leo was about to ask another question, but he realized in time how incongruous it was. And another question, from Nico, would prompt the answer anyway:  
\- Are you running away from the police?" asked the young man, presenting him with the dish of peanuts. Riario refused with a polite gesture and said:  
\- I'm leaving to avoid my father's revenge: I played a trick on him that he didn't appreciate at all, and in such cases it's better to disappear for a while... And then, other occupations call me in Sicily.  
He caught Leo's eye. They both looked away as quickly as they could. Yet he still wanted to try his luck and asked, even if it meant destabilizing the others:  
\- Have you received a visit from Fausta, Leonardo?  
To the surprise of his friends, Leo cried out:  
\- No! No! I don't believe in your Fausta for a moment! Accept it once and for all!  
\- So you've seen her, Riario smiled. Very well. She'll come back often... And now, if you give me back my computer and the few documents I left at the Shelter, I could finally leave you among friends.  
Leo found what he was asking for in a storage box under the seat and said, angrily, handing it to him:  
\- Bon voyage, Count. Don't let me see you again!  
\- Good bye, Da Vinci. But if I were you, I wouldn't count on it. »

***  
  
The sun was setting on the hills of Catania, and in the silence one could imagine the beginning of the world, just after the great outbursts had fallen silent.

After a three-week immersion in the boiling waters of London, Riario was listening, hoping to find no sound of traffic in the distance. Nothing. Nothing but the rustling of the water in the nearby creek bed and, in the tents, a murmur of whispered confidences.  
All those who slept here had preferred this partial break from what reminded them of comfort. In the tent on the right were four Ghanaian students who spoke no European language. In a Canadian one, a couple of professors from the University of Florence, two activists who would have preferred to die rather than betray the current mission to La Forza. In the larger tent on the left, where Laura Cereta and Giròlamo also slept, four long-time friends who had decided to leave the comfort of the Boston campus to discover Europe "the hard way". Laura had accommodated them for three weeks, shortly after the death of Commander Rodrigo, and they decided to follow her to participate in the dig for at least a year. The fourth tent was reserved as a place for the equipment, documents and computers they all needed.

At this time of night, just before going to sleep, secrets and confidences were being told that could only be shared among people who were very close.

"Hadn't you been there, I'd be in prison, Girolamo, I'd taste neither the quietness nor the exhilaration of discovery. I can never thank you enough!  
\- No one would have let you struggle alone, knowing what this executioner of Rodrigo was, Signora, I have no merit. The coincidence of my birth just happened to mean that the one who wanted revenge for your husband's death was none other than my father... "Birds of a feather flock together", on occasions, has accents of truth...  
\- You've never told me about your childhood or your youth at his side, and that makes me fear for the worst.  
\- I never talk about it, indeed. It's better that way, and you're in a good position to understand that.  
\- Indeed I do. What's the point of waking up the pains? Oh! Do you hear? A Lanner ! Come, let's go and see our famous third wall, now that the others are in bed... I want to leave you to contemplate it all by yourself, I'll stand back, just for the pleasure of seeing your eyes shine. »  
He smiled at her, they grabbed a flashlight and went down to the mysterious room that had been uncovered after six months of excavation.  
On the wall, just in front of him, Fausta was smiling, in the sublime brilliance of each of her colourful tiles.


	11. Suspicion and retribution ...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leo smells a rat and Lucas demands some salami.

« It was a ruse. It was staged. Leo told Lucas Webb.As he, Nico and Tom were staring at Webb, he explained, "By standing up for you in front of those four guys, he was buying your gratitude. 

\- Even for Riario, that's a bit of a stretch, isn't it? Nico suggested.

\- In what way? A human life doesn't mean much to him, we know that, he practically told us so yesterday on the barge. »

That's when Vanessa walked in.

At four o'clock in the afternoon, the pub was dozing amidst the midday cooking flavours and at the soundtrack of the film "V for Vendetta", which Leo had been playing over and over on his player lately. She kissed Leo, Nico and Tom, greeted Lucas and went to prepare the bar for rush hour.

« Let's pretend, said Lucas. It's true that four deaths don't count... but he was there to get me to sign important documents that tied me to the deal I had made verbally with Della Rovere!I mean... he wouldn't have sabotaged his own work just to get in my good graces, would he ?

\- Exactly ! Leo got up to go and fetch a folder from behind the counter, came back and handed it to his boss while sitting down: read!

While the man was doing so, Tommaso went to serve four beers at the Stella pump without taking his eyes off Lucas. He elbowed Vanessa:

\- He doesn't seem to be hitting, poor thing, he murmured, mockingly.

She giggled, but added, in a low voice too:

\- Leo's wrong.

\- What do you mean he's wrong?

\- I don't think there was a foul move against the boss.

\- Yeah... I understand that you would feel some sympathy, but don't stick a halo on top of his head and wings onto his back, eh, Nessa, it’s still La Forza, remember ?

Maybe... It’s just my intuition. »

Tom went back to the table to put a glass of beer in front of each and a huge plate of peanuts in the middle... well, closer to his middle than to theirs, to be honest.

\- I don't see anything special, Da Vinci, Lucas said.

\- These documents are decoys, for God’s sake ! Leo protested, a little irritated ( If Lucas read so badly, he had every chance to fall into the trap ! What were those people thinking of?) Read the small print at the bottom of page three, he emphasized, and read it out loud.

Lucas looked for his glasses, put them on his nose and read:

\- _This document and all its articles will be null and void unless signed by representatives of both parties on August 25, 2018_... Yes... well, I signed! There! he said, pointing to his initials.

Leonardo raised his hands:

\- Ah! But not him! He was ... interrupted - Leo made the sign of quotation marks in the air - by your attackers.

Tom struck his fist into the palm of his hand:

\- By men he would have hired ! Damn, that's brilliant, Leo!

\- In reality, they were probably low-level scoundrels who were paid to scare you and didn't know what they were getting into.

\- Yes, but, Lucas tried again, what was the point of this deal being void? What's all the fuss about?

Leo took out of his pocket a piece of paper folded in four:

\- Because this document, here, is the real Della Rovere contract... you can expect it to be shoved under your nose insidiously, on the corner of a table, between two rushes, in the coming days... and it stipulates that you will sell him all the construction sites for a sum that wouldn't even pay for a pub like the Shelter of Wimbledon... That's why your gratitude was requested : to make you even more confident!

Lucas had turned pale, then blushed:

\- Where did you get this one?

\- From his computer. I copied it onto a key and printed it out for you.

He went to stand behind his boss to point out what he wanted to draw his attention to:

\- Look: to make the real contract look more familiar, it was given the appearance of a mundane document, without the letterhead. And now, once again, read aloud the clauses of this document, in very small print!

\- _This document is the only valid property transfer agreement between the two contractors and signatories_... Fuck! I'm going to get them killed! Lucas concluded, crescendo.

The other three grabbed their glasses to protect them from the probable outburst. But instead of overturning the table, Lucas got up to walk its length, which, when he was in rage mode, was barely more than a step and a half.

\- Speaking of killings, Lucas, Leo ventured, I wish you would keep the four of us out of any such gangland killing....

\- Anything you wish... after you've trapped this Count Riawanker of yours and brought him here, as neatly tied as a salami stick ! Right here, is it clear ?

Leo stepped back:

\- That's not going to happen.

\- What do you mean, it's not gonna happen? I'm telling you, you're gonna do it!

\- No. For one thing, Riario's gone, and for another, I'm not going to play that kind of role. I will not. Leo emphasized.

\- That's what we'll see! You're still my employees, and my contracts aren't fake. Your father saw to that. Break them, and I'll put the four of you out of business and maybe even in a shack... Vanessa swore on her honor to be 16 years old to be hired. Machiavelli’s University campus expenses are covered in large part by the checks I sign, I've got a thick as a dictionary file on Masini, and as for you, your dealer's one of my men and will testify whenever I want... The same networks that protect the business that goes on in my pubs will put you all behind bars... So it's either that or get that son of a bitch Riario's skin. clear?

Nico was about to say something, Leo stopped him with a look and a wave of his hand. He said:

\- Why us? You must have people who specialize in this kind of work, right?

Lucas pocketed the contract sheet left on the table and put the folder under his arm and looked at Leo with a smile:

\- Because you're a genius and a skilled negotiator, Da Vinci. I think you've heard enough of that lately, haven't you?

When he was out, Leonardo fell on a chair:

\- I think we're up to our necks in it!

\- We'll help you, said Tommaso.

\- Yes... We'll do everything we can, Nico confirmed.

\- And I want to be part of it too, said Vanessa. You always need a woman in difficult situations. Often, she's the one who keeps her head on her shoulders the best! »

The three boys thought she meant it as a joke.

She didn't.


	12. In custody.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicò gets an — undesired — opportunity to test the heat in Sicily...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nico in a cage... Ah ! Souvenirs, souvenirs ;-)

Nico could barely make out the dark silhouette through a grey-speckled orange haze. There was laughter in the distance. He had a heavy headache. In his mind, he was widening his eyes, but he knew that, in reality, his eyelids were just ajar.

He was feeling horribly hot. Something was stinging his legs and arms. He stood up on one elbow, tried to sit up. The dizziness forced him to lie down again. He stretched out his left leg too suddenly. His toes hit something hard.

OUCH !

« Take it easy at first, young Nico. You've just been sleeping for eighteen hours straight !

That voice... God, no!

\- Count Riario? Wha...what have you done to me? Where I am now?

\- It's “ **where am I** ," Nico !... I've abducted you, I'm afraid... Shh ! Yes, I know, it's very wicked. Don't waste your energy insulting me, I assure you, it won't make any difference to the outcome.

Nico tried to scream:

\- Why ? What use am I to you ?

The man was sitting with his legs on a wooden box, the sleeves of his loose black shirt rolled up... He looked very different than in his tight suit, no doubt. He was preparing a plate of fruit and bread for himself. Nico began to drool... He was in pyjama shorts and a T-shirt, so he had been caught sleeping, no doubt, and he hadn't eaten for nearly twenty-four hours.

\- Right now, you're just bait. I think I've chosen well, don't you agree ? After all, there was no way I was going to do that to our sweet Vanessa... and, even with the utmost endeavour, I couldn't stand that rude rooster Masini, even in a cage and pierced with multiple arrows and blades !... Ah ! Signora Cereta ! Have you ever seen an angel up close, tell me ?

The silhouette that came forward was clearer already, the orange mist was dissipating. A tall blonde lady in three-quarter pants and a grey shirt wiped her forehead with the back of her hand :

\- Indeed ! she said, in truth, he does look like an angel, Giròlamo ! her voice smiled in admiration.

\- Don't get too close though : in ten minutes he might switch moods and get angry, he warned her.

The Count's voice was mocking, so Nico did, indeed, feel a small core of anger growing in the pit of his stomach... However, he wouldn't show it. He knew how laughable childish fits of anger were, and what else was he to this dangerous man than a harmless kid?

Unfortunately, his logic seemed to be out of order, for, out of fear, he threatened :

\- Leo will come for me !

\- I swear I'm relying on it, Riario said, laughing, or why else would you be here ?

Then; he stood up and whispered a few words to his companion's ear. She whispered back that he should try to sleep instead. He disappeared from Nico's sight, she slipped the plate the count had just been preparing under the bars. Nicò took a deeper breath to enjoy her perfume... something in the range of his mother's very own Givenchy. Pure delight ! She noticed this, but didn't allude to it. Instead, she smiled and promised, before walking away herself :

\- It won't be long, young man. As soon as your friend arrives, you'll be free to walk around again… »

After a few more attempts, he finally managed to stay seated. His gaze had regained all its sharpness. He discovered his environment. He was in a cage, on a bed of straw, like a common rabbit on his grandmother's farm. All around and above him, was the canvas of a large khaki green tent. On the various tables lay computers, books, stones...

An archaeological digging camp ! He must have been in Sicily.

Yes, Leo would easily find out and kill two birds with one stone: get him back and capture that bastard Count for Lucas!

He grinned, drank from the gourd that the "Signora" had given him and ate with a good heart. 

*** 

Giovanni della Rovere had been given the task of warning Leonardo of his young friend's fate as soon as he returned from Palermo. Fortunately, Uncle Alessandro had decided to retire to his villa in Rome for a few days; he would not be back in London for another two days.

With his wife now out of the hospital, confident of her recovery, no task seemed overwhelming or even boring to Giovanni. He had really feared for her life, and to know that he was away from her for the sole benefit of his sadistic uncle had, at times, made him want to risk everything for the sheer pleasure of wringing the Pasha's neck.

Compared to this feeling of helplessness and anguish, nothing could shake him anymore. He had just informed the painter of the kidnapping and, standing huge in the artist's little boat, he was watching him think about a parade, desperately searching for a way out, other than the one proposed.

Giovanni had seen hundreds like him, panicking like a cat in a sack, or with haggard eyes fixed on some object, overwhelmed by fear or bewilderment.

Leonardo had just been threatening to reveal everything about the Catania excavations if Machiavelli was not returned to him...

« If you care about your young friend, I wouldn't do that, Da Vinci : my cousin would be ruthless, I guarantee you, he said. He may be a bit accommodating on occasion, but just dare to reveal these excavations to my uncle and you'll see why Giròlamo is Forza's second in command. He fights in all areas as well as on the field : he's sharp, focused and brutal... nothing like the weak and docile being you seem to have in mind.

\- I... What... ? Oh !... I see... you are referring to my allusion the other night... You must admit there is some weakness in your blind obedience ! Leo said, looking him straight in the eyes.

\- We have our reasons, which your twenty-five years of age prevent you from figuring... Come on, be pragmatic, young man : going to Sicily is the only thing you can do to get Niccolò Machiavelli back. He handed him a card : contact me at this number as soon as your decision is made, but do not delay : in two days the Pasha will be back and I will not be able to guarantee a perfect transmission of our arrangements to Girò.

Leo frowned at this diminutive :

\- You seem to have affection for him.

\- Sharing the same experiences and adversities strengthens the bonds that existed beforehand... Giròlamo is my relative and we share the same enemies… »

He cut short any further intrusion on the part of this nosy fellow by nodding his head, and went out. 

As soon as he had made room, Fausta reappeared.

"The dress, the headdress and everything!“

" _Search! Seek, Artista!_ “

" _A treasure. The lives of thousands of people. My life!_ “

" _Look for me!"_

*** 

Laura had no trouble at all recognizing the two guys she was waiting for at the airport. The tall one, about six feet tall, in a flashy open jacket with a very hairy chest and triumphant beard, and the famous Leonardo, grand gestures, also rather scruffy, with half-long messy hair and a three-day beard.

She caught herself smiling inwardly even before taking off her sunglasses and waving at them.

They approached, frowning, closed like the most prestigious of excavation sites. Nevertheless, she had been through many other ordeals in her life and said, smiling, holding out her hand: « I am the director of the Catania site, Laura Cereta.

They shook the outstretched hand, but Tomasso couldn’t hold back a sharp :

\- Ah ! The friend of our revered Reptilian Majesty then !

She laughed and replied :

\- And you must be Tommaso Masini, “that coarse chatterbox of a primate“ !

He seemed to be amused, so she judged that he was not entirely devoid of qualities.

\- I suppose that's fair enough, he said, with a wink... We're following you, beauty !

She warned him, with her index finger on his chest:

\- Don't try the charming rogue style approach on me, Mr. Masini, I'm not very sensitive to it... But it's nice of you to have attempted it, she said with a wink in return.

They followed without further ado and got into the off-roader. She explained :

\- Giròlamo was to come in person, you know, however I put a heavy dose of sedatives in his Perrier... Your young friend is well, but he's bored and will be happy to see you...if only to get out of his cage at last.

\- Out of his cage? Leonardo protested.

\- Would you have preferred that we tied him to a pole like savages?

\- What was even the need to prevent him from walking around ? Your campsite is in the middle of nowhere... at least that's what I thought I saw on the satellite map !

Laura abruptly parked on the side of the road, which was strictly forbidden along the highway:

\- You saw the excavation site? she said, paler, turning towards him...

\- Hey, cool down, Lady ! I could spot it only because I know it exists, don't worry. You really have to look for it to detect the khaki tarpaulins in this huge area of the same tone.

She put the sunglasses back on her elegant nose, signaled, and drove off again:

\- You scared me! This would really be the worst time to get spotted by the Forza. We're about to uncover a second artifact... You'll love Fausta, Leonardo. An artist like you will know...

\- I don't think I can ever love Fausta, Signora Cereta, she's been poisoning my nights for ten days.

\- Oh ! Yours too, then ? This proves that there's magic underneath : the crew and I sleep like babies, you see : only Giròlamo has been suffering from insomnia.

\- The poor sweetheart ! Tommaso commented... Do you think he'd get over it with a big wet kiss on the forehead?

Laura laughed :

\- I like you, Mr. Masini !

\- You see ?" he triumphed, beaming, in the rear-view mirror.


	13. Reunion.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friends are reunited... enemies too.

« Where's Vanessa?" Nicò wanted to know first.  
\- In London. We needed someone who knew enough about the pub routine to stay on to guide our replacements, Tom said. Has that shit been treating you badly?  
\- No, I didn't lack for anything. This is the centre of it all, a sort of HQ, I've always had company. Besides, he's an insomniac, so he's been here two nights in a row.  
\- Yeah... well, condolences, kid!  
\- Oh, he's not boring. On the contrary. »

Laura Cereta came back, took the key to the cage from a drawer and freed him.  
He almost fell out of the tight space, but she held him up; "Easy, beautiful angel! You haven't got your wings yet, remember? »  
He smiled at her. She had also come to keep him company from time to time.  
She then invited the couple of Florentine teachers out to allow the friends the privacy they needed for their reunion. 

Once she had left, Leo asked Nico who she was and he told them what she had been willing to entrust to him, concluding: "She's quite a woman: you should see how they obey her!  
\- Do you think she and Riario... Tom made an explicit gesture, Nico blushed a little.  
\- I'd say not... But she's in love, I think. You can see it in her eyes and hear it in her tone of voice.  
\- Did they tell you anything about what they found here? Leo asked.  
\- I just know it's fabulous. They promised to show it to me as well as to you. »

They walked around the tent several times together, turning around the tables to restore circulation to Nico's legs, and then the Count appeared, accompanied by Laura.  
The room temperature suddenly dropped as they came face to face, on either side of the table, the table for meals, in the middle of the tent.

« Da Vinci ! Riario greeted, cold as the Arctic, Ah ! you've brought your pet? That's probably a wise precaution: who knows what kind of carnage they will cause once left alone!  
Leo looked him straight in the eye:  
\- Count! I see your new discoveries haven't left you speechless.  
\- God forbid! Words can be very useful in solving certain situations... But you know that better than anyone, don't you?  
\- Lucas Webb wants you dead.  
\- Oh, he does, does he? Well, let him take his place in the line.  
\- The frame-up was clever, but it wasn't perfect.  
Riario moved a chair forward to Laura, sat himself down and gestured to the other three to do the same.  
\- You wouldn't have found out without looting my computer, though. Too bad, it would have saved Webb his pubs and construction sites for a long while... just long enough to find a satisfactory solution.  
Leo frowned and lost some of the self-restraint he had imposed on himself:  
\- What do you mean ? You were planning to trade all his construction sites for a pittance!  
-That's what you suspected when you read the contracts, said the Count, twisting the ring on his finger, simply because it was what you were expecting from me, and you were closed to any other option !  
Leo rose abruptly, almost toppling his chair, and folded his arms:  
\- Then explain to me how...  
Riario interrupted him:  
\- The file you stole from me was just a decoy and was to be read and signed exclusively by my father... Lupo Mercuri is so busy robbing the Forza himself that he never takes the trouble to read the clauses at the bottom of our contracts... He would have signed blindly. But not your boss, because he would have had the first contract, which I was about to co-sign.  
Leo raised a finger to the sky:  
\- Ha! But that's just it! You didn't sign it!  
\- And you already know why: you were there.  
\- Because those poor guys showed up just in time for you, Tom laughed, because you paid them for it! "Oh, shit, bad luck! I was about to sign! "he grimaced.  
Riario looked him in the face:  
\- This idea comes from you? the count said, falsely admiring. Bravo, Masini!  
\- No, Leo... Tom began.  
\- Ah! Well, that explains it, then. He turned to Leonardo again... and those men weren't paid either to let you know that I was something else than a mezzo-soprano in the chorus of the Forza.  
Leo's cheeks regained some color, a little too much. He didn't look away, but blurted out, a bit too grudgingly:  
\- I regret this insult.  
\- Because of my victory at the pub?  
\- No, absolutely not, Leo was forced to concede… Because It was low, undeserved and unworthy of our previous conversations.  
Riario blinked several times, moistened his lips in his usual way, and hastened to explain:  
\- My cousin has since learned how my father felt this threat would make Webb sign... in case he hesitated again.  
Leo snapped back, still vexed for being pushed to offer a kind of apology :  
\- But who's to say you didn't intend to use the document I took from you? And first of all, how did you know...?  
\- That it was you? It is quite simple: my computer is equipped with software that automatically loads the contents of the inserted USB keys. You're not the first to try it... But rest assured, you'll be the first trespasser to survive it, Riario grinned... even though your key revealed some rather invidious secrets to me… As to whether I would have used this document... you'll have to trust your judgment. It's unlikely that this second thought ... would prompt you to give me the benefit of the doubt, but the fact remains ... this... such is the truth.  
Laura put one hand on his arm and said, in Italian:  
\- Better show them the excavation right away, Giròlamo.  
He put a hand on hers :  
\- You are perfectly right, dear Laura, let’s not delay the visit to our bella dona any longer. He turned to the others: Will you come and see our wonderful Fausta? That is… if you find the subject of contracts sufficiently enlightened?  
He got up too quickly, affecting some drive, missed a step, blushed, but chose to joke about it:  
\- She really is the first lady to make me lose sleep to such an extent!  
\- She has been haunting me for ten nights, Leo confessed ... One more grievance I'll add onto your bill, Count.  
\- What are the others, Artista?  
\- I'll tell you later. Show me your dear Fausta instead. »  
He walked around the table and put one hand on his opponent's shoulder. Riario made no backward move. He even attempted a smile.

***  
  
Laura loved those moments when, in front of the mosaic, that seemed illuminated from the inside, the eyes of Giròlamo shone with excitement, with pride to have been the one to find her. She was doubly satisfied when she saw Leonardo gaping, sharing the same wonder.  
But Leo had demonstrated it, he was also a tactile individual, idea and image did not satisfy him, he had to touch!  
He stepped forward, reached out his hand…  
« No! Riario cried out  
\- Why not?  
\- Why? But, Leo…  
Tom frowned and clenched his jaws: ‘Leo’? what next ? ‘My dear’ maybe?  
\- I mean, Leo, if she’s already depriving us of sleep while we’re just seeing her, what will happen if you touch her?  
It was him, this time, whom Leonardo looked at in disbelief :  
\- You ... you do not seriously believe that this thing, admittedly wonderful, is enchanted, do you?  
\- I don't believe anything a priori ... I'm just saying that some caution may not be superfluous... She started visiting me the first night after I found her.  
\- But ... Come on, said the artist with some gestures in support, the people who brought her to light must have touched her, right?  
\- Those sleep every night to make the canvas of their tents vibrate… which is far from being the case for the two of us !  
Again, Tom didn't like this “two of us”. Too much proximity in this ! He began to stamp his feet.  
\- Never mind ! I want to be sure! »

And Leonardo put out his hand, stroked the smooth, shiny surface of the mosaic with his fingertips, with a loving delicacy, as one would stroke a lily petal or the wing of a dragonfly.

He was beaming and something perceptible on the surface of one’s skin emanated from him, like a wave, a heat ...

He said, shaken : « It's so smooth, and at the same time slightly grainy… so warm and soft… it could be alive!  
He turned to find four transformed faces, suddenly more colorful or pale.  
The Count warned, in an even huskier voice:  
\- Do not be surprised if, after taking your sleep away, she also takes your vigil, Da Vinci.  
\- You caress her like a mistress, Laura remarked, she might ask for more, beware!  
The teasing allowed the spectators to recover their natural breath and usual demeanor.  
\- Leo in love with a stone woman: as if it were really a first, eh! Nicò joked.  
Tom caught the ball :  
\- Don’t get me started ! He stumbles on one of these goddesses every, what, two months?  
\- Alternating with gods anyway, Nico amended, unconscious of taking part in a settlement of account.  
\- Enough! Leo cried out. This is far from being the subject of the moment. For God’s sake, this splendour, which must be eight hundred years old, comes to us perfectly intact and all you can think of is ... that? You guys need therapy ! Go check your hormones, really, trust me!  
The rapture in the eyes of Riario passed straight from the mosaic to Leonardo. Laura read a mixture of recognition and revelation.  
But self-discipline works miracles, and there was no such sign left as he said:  
\- I would like us to compare our experiences with Fausta, Da Vinci. She must have delivered you short, sibylline messages, just like she did to me, and I wonder if they could be the same.  
— I agree. And let’s not delay: if I understood your cousin correctly, Alessandro della Rovere will be back in London the day after tomorrow. He’ll probably want you by his side.  
— Not to mention that Lucas wants him too, Tom cut in… in the shape of a salami stick, remember?  
Leo glanced stealthily at Riario before turning to his friend:  
\- That’s not going to happen.  
\- What? You forget the threats?  
\- I can fix this.  
\- So you fall right back into the trap of this fucking mongoose? Tom barked, pointing at the count.  
\- The mongoose eats the snake, Masini. You must decide between the two, I cannot be one and the other at the same time, remarked Riario.  
\- Oh, but I bet you can! Tom made a gesture of his hand, showing the palm, then the back : You see? It’s no more complicated than that!  
Riario nearly charged to jump at his throat once and for all, but Leo held him back:  
\- Ignore this, Giròlamo, we have more important matters to sort out. Nicò, I charge you with explaining to this dickhead why we can’t both reject a system then use its questionable methods. »  
Once again, Tommaso rushed out, in a rage, disgusted, disappointed, and just a thought away from crying.


	14. A quieter evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for stealing a memorable scene from the show...

Alessandro came back, delighted, from his weekend in Rome. So invigorated was he by the good old customs of conviviality of his capital - read from his Roman residence - that he had decided to return to London a day earlier than planned.  
He couldn't wait to settle this painful story with Lucas Webb. Usually, everything was going much faster: the talks, the contracts, everything was wrapped up in a week at the most.   
Alas, Riario had lately been dragging along some kind of rebellious nonchalance that was betraying him. The little bastard was taking a malicious pleasure in slowing down Forza's progress.  
This reeked of vengeance in every way.  
Alessandro could have enjoyed it, if he had only loved the boy. After treating him as he had, he would have deemed this revolt wholesome. But he didn't love him, and besides, a rebellion could be "wholesome“ only by modern standards.  
Alessandro della Rovere did not like this modernity either. He only believed in the feudal system: a beautiful pyramid based on services and their remuneration, where any failure meant pure and simple removal of the failing element. And at the top, up there, sat Alessandro, close to the sun and to God himself.   
He alone.  
Yes, there were clear symptoms that the Riario element was cracking.  
But enough of these negative ideas already ! He was going to give him one more chance. After all, there were some extenuating circumstances, all the same: being born from a scrap from the street and an all-powerful man didn't make personal identification easy.  
So, magnanimously, from time to time, he would pass on a fault, such as that of the fake Turin revolt.  
But why on earth had he wanted to spare that little enticing girl from the pub ? Did he want her for himself ?  
He was going to ask him.  
He immediately dialed his number, left a message and waited, expecting for Giròlamo to come running. 

***  
  
At ten o'clock in the evening, it was finally cool. A little breeze had risen and played with your hair, caressing your sunburnt cheeks and arms, and darkness was resting your eyes, tired from too much attention and light.

The participants in the camp had invited Nico and Tom to join them around their campfire where, sooner or later, everyone would start singing or dancing to some traditional song or dance from their country. This had been the custom since the beginning of the excavations, and today, everyone usually ended up accompanying without clumsiness the dances and songs from sometimes very distant countries. The young boys from Boston were enthusiastic about it.

By the end of the afternoon, Leonardo and Giròlamo had made a list of the messages Fausta had given them during her late-night visits, but they had not yet come up with any coherent deciphering  
Both were now sitting in front of the main tent, where three extra cots had been added for the Londoners.They were tired of playing with the words, twisting them around. They had been silent for a while.

" Leonardo, Riario then said, you mentioned earlier today that your insomnia was to be added to the things you would never forgive me for... What are these grievances?  
\- Does it really matter to you, Count, or is it just a way to keep the conversation going? the painter asked, a little mocking, still staring into the distance.  
\- I'm curious, I don't like vagueness... So, yes, it does matter to me.  
\- I... I felt betrayed by you that Friday, when I found you in the ruins of the Blackstag with those men.  
\- But... I hadn't even heard, until late that very afternoon, that you were going to be involved in the negotiations... There's no way I would have set a trap for you on behalf of Forza.  
\- You didn't have any prearranged plans? What about all our meetings before the sale? My friends had come to believe that you were courting me, you know!  
He had ended on a laugh and turned to the man next to him.  
Riario smiled:  
\- They're very interested in your love life, if you allow me ! Here, let me tell you the events in sequence... I met Lucas Webb in the flesh for the first time on Saturday. We talked business, of course, but also about a little bit of everything. At one point, he told me that he was employing, and financially supporting, a particularly brilliant young painter. For some reason, I immediately imagined this cultivated and intelligent artist right here, searching for the key to the enigmas of the mosaic with me. So I asked Lucas for our meeting the next day to take place at the Shelter... After our exchanges, which were a little... prickly, shall we say, I went to see your paintings. You know the rest. So... it's true that from the beginning I had hoped to lure you into my project, but definitely not into Forza's. For that, yes, I plead guilty.  
\- You could have told me sooner that you belonged to that world !  
\- You think we advertise that in the public square? Do you think we brag about it? We like even less to say it to those we value, be assured of that!  
\- Because just knowing it is dangerous, Leo deduced.  
Riario nodded his head.  
\- The fact remains that kidnapping Nico was maybe not necessary.  
\- Would you have come?... Unless you really mean to turn me over to Lucas Webb, of course.  
\- No, I wouldn't have come. I thought you were going to make me a toy of La Forza. I didn't trust you anymore.  
\- I appreciate the use of the past tense in that sentence.  
Leo stared at him, frowning:  
\- Don't get me wrong: I still have great difficulty with your tendency to take lives and torture people!  
\- I do understand that. We live in very different worlds and some of our values are not shared, that's a fact. That doesn't prevent us from trying to solve a puzzle together, does it?  
\- Fausta.  
\- Fausta.  
Leo had paid more attention to the rhythm of speech and the face of the man he was talking to, he asked:  
\- How long has she been stealing your nights from you?  
\- Two months and nine days.  
\- Holy shit ! No wonder you have the appearance of a ghost! He stood up: come on, I'll show you something that works a little for me, that might be more effective on you... Come on! I'm not going to attack you savagely: I defend myself rather well in a fight, but I am not under the illusion of being a match for you, believe me!  
\- That's the only reason why you will stay ? Just because I am able to hold you back by force ?  
\- No, that's not it... It’s just… Well, all right, for the second time today you make me crack my own dam : here… I believe what you told me.  
Only then did Riario get up and follow him, docilely, to the cots.  
\- Sit down, Leo said, holding him by the elbow... there, yes.  
He found his opium pipe, an antique of which he was rather proud, filled it and lit it...  
\- And now open your mouth and inhale...  
\- I, uh...  
\- Come on! Trust me, I promise I won't take advantage of this opportunity to kiss you... he smiled. But, see, I can't offer you a normal puff... unless, of course, you're used to opium?  
\- Heavens no!  
\- Then do as I say. »

He took a puff from his pipe and projected the smoke straight into Riario's mouth, who inhaled, felt dizzy and eventually collapsed very quickly.  
Leo stretched his legs out on the cot for him and looked at him for a moment.   
The artist in him took control of his thoughts.  
The face of a dangerous street kid, a long muscular body that told long stories of strength and flexibility...   
( Does he even know that all the studios would start a war just to have him sit for them ? No. He likes surrounding himself with luxury and beautiful things, but he thinks he is devoid of charm: he's been locked up for too long in his idea of stateliness...)  
Then, Leo pulled himself together and went to lie on Tom's bed without any remorse: the fool deserved to sleep on the floor.


	15. A delightful breakfast.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Giròlamo feels a bit euphoric. Leonardo is taking care of his moustache.

In the early morning, three phones began ringing simultaneously with insistence. Riario emerged from a strange dream and staggered to the table: "Hello?  
\- Damn it, Girò, I thought something had happened at the camp. This is the third group call and no one is answering. Are you all asleep or what?  
\- What time is it?  
\- Four o'clock here, five at your place... at least if you're still where I think you are.  
\- Of course I am. If you tried to get in touch with Laura, she's already at the work site... and I was on my first night sleeping more than two hours in two months! Thanks, cuz!  
\- Yeah, well, sorry, but the Pasha's back and he wants to see you. I told him you were in Florence. He said you had nothing important to do there and that anyway blah blah blah blah blah... well, you know the whole rosary of punishments in Purgatory...  
\- Shit!  
\- Girò!  
\- Yes, I know...  
\- Is Da Vinci with you?  
\- Yes, he is.  
\- Well, good. So... it seems Lucas Webb wants to talk to the grand master about a , quote, "crappy" contract. He wants to meet with him as soon as possible. You know what this is about? Da Vinci's name came up.  
\- Yes. I know what this is about and it just sucks. I'll explain later. I'm taking the first plane back. Oh!... and, Giovanni, don't do anything if you hear that Leonardo and his idiot of a friend have captured me, OK?  
\- What the hell kind of trouble is this?  
\- That too, I'll explain. Don't do anything, don't say anything, okay?  
\- It's okay. It's okay. See you later, buddy!  
Giovanni hung up, Giròlamo sighed.  
\- What shouldn't be told to Leonardo?" said a suspicious voice.  
(Oh, shit, the primate!)  
\- Nothing that could be remotely relevant to your discernment, Masini. Back up your tree you go !  
Tom leaped.  
Dodge.  
New charge.  
Grab and twist wrist, knee kick to the solar plexus.  
Leo arrived, shaggy with sleep, he stared, open-mouthed then admonished :  
\- Aren't you two finished yet?  
The Count maintained his grip:  
\- I have something urgent to discuss with you, Leonardo. Very urgent indeed.  
\- In this position?  
Riario, standing but slightly bent over to keep his opponent on his knees, released Tom.  
\- By the way, thanks for your nighttime remedy, LEO... I slept like a newborn baby!  
\- What... Tom began, but a look from the other two shut him up. He raised his hands:  
\- Okay, I get it, I'm going out... but I'll have you pay for it, you vermin!  
Leo leaned on the table and put his hand on his hip, looking at the Count in disapproval:  
\- Don't push Tom too far, Count. If we have to start searching, he'll be there and your little rivalry may become untenable.  
\- I'm afraid it's all postponed anyway. My father is back in London and wants to see me about a certain contract. Lucas Webb made an appointment with him.  
Leo breathed in, between his teeth:  
\- Ouch! What are you going to tell him?  
\- I don't know yet.  
\- Don't go back! Stay! Only your cousin knows where you are.  
Riario went to pour a coffee from the percolator and handed it to Leo, then took one himself, thoughtful. Aware of the painter's gaze on him, he explained:  
\- I'm trying to visualize the people he might attack if I don't go home.  
\- Giovanni ?  
\- No. My cousin and I are always very distant in his presence. In fact, he thinks we're at knives drawn because of the position as a second in command... Bring Vanessa, Da Vinci. He's learned that the mutiny in Turin was just a ruse to get him off her back. By now, he must assume that I'm interested in her.  
Leo decided to tease him a little and acted offended, very seriously:  
\- What's that? Aren't you interested in Vanessa?  
\- Come on now! Of course I am! Why do you think I'm telling you... Oh! I see... you're kidding me, he said with a broad smile. No, Vanessa doesn't interest me in the way my father understands it... A slice of bread? It's Alberto, our Florentine teacher, who makes it. It's delicious.  
He presented the bread basket to Leo, took a slice himself and sat down at the table.Leonardo imitated him and sat down opposite him:  
\- Don't you put anything on your bread?  
\- No, but help yourself to the fridge if you want, there's plenty there.  
Leo got up and opened the small refrigerator.  
While he was making his choice, the Count said:  
\- I've just realized how precious my concern for keeping my distance is today: Apart from your young friend, he has no emotional leverage to threaten me... I admit it's quite terrible, because it says it all about how many friends I have, but in this case, it's very comfortable!  
Leo returned to sit down and started strewing his bread with a generous layer of cottage cheese, which he topped with strawberry jam, under the amused scrutiny of his companion. At that moment, Nico appeared, grumbling:  
\- You could have at least kidnapped me with my clothes on! I've been feeling like naked ever since I arrived.  
\- It's true, said Riario, sorry, I wish Giovanni hadn't omitted that detail... he paused for a sip of coffee and resumed: it would have saved us some pitiful spectacle.  
Leo burst out laughing, Nico grumbled and Riario added, with a smile in his voice: Go to my tent, you'll find something there that will suit you.  
\- You're much taller!  
\- This will be the occasion to launch the fashion of triple cuff trousers! Leonardo said.  
\- Yes, well, you two are a pain in the arse, aren't you?  
But he laughed and went out, looking for the precious garment.  
\- Sooooo? What do you think of my idea? the painter insisted..  
\- I like it. I'll let Giovanni know. It's okay, I'll stay.  
\- Yesss! Let's start the journey, Count! Can you imagine? To have nothing else to think about but Fausta's mystery: Searching the land and books... Maybe it's better to avoid the internet, if your father is in a rage, he's probably the type to hire hackers to spot you... Only think ! Forget the pub customers, the mob, the London pollution and the fucking routine... What? I used a bad word, I know, but...  
\- Your moustache is very becoming, Artista!  
Leo put his finger under his nose and smiled:  
\- It happens to me all the time.  
Giròlamo laughed:  
\- There you have it, you have just discovered the key to my secret: I never put anything on my bread! »  
Leo giggled and wondered, in passing, why he was feeling so good at that particular moment, but did not dwell on the analysis.  
Now, it was time to focus on the Fausta case so that they could finally get back some sleep.


	16. Those tricky words !

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanessa robs her boss, and a heart...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fausta's messages come from a translation of poems by Brunetto Latini.

In the kitchen at the Shelter, Vanessa was giving one of her so-called assistants a dressing-down. As she was doing so, she promised to scratch Leonardo's eyes out as soon as she saw him again.   
How many times had she already promised that in two days? At least twenty!  
Those two good-for-nothings gave her more work than if she had been alone. They kept interrupting the customers at the wrong time, so she would forget what she had been asked for and return, confused, begging them to repeat their order.  
Or the lads would confuse the chutneys with the desserts, make extravagant mistakes on the blackboard of the menu...

She was losing her mind!

When her phone rang, she cursed, looking up to the ceiling.  
But she immediately relaxed: Nico!  
(Of course, Leo didn't dare to call in person.)  
"Nessa!  
\- Nico! I'm so happy to hear from you! How are you? They didn't hurt you, did they?  
\- No, I'm fine. Leo and Riario want you to join us in Sicily. They're worried and they say it's very important that you come. And they don't want you to say anything to anyone.  
\- Yes, that's right, wait a moment, I'll go and pluck the banknotes from the tree in my garden and buy my ticket as fast as I can.  
He chuckled:  
\- They thought of that too. They say that you have to empty the cash-register, that it will teach Lucas a lesson.  
\- And when I come back I'll get caught for theft... thank you very much!  
\- Nessa, I don't mean to scare you, but the Count says his father might come after you. So fill a bag right now and get out of there! There are a lot of flights to Palermo. You'll land at the Falcone-Borsellino, we'll be there to welcome you.  
\- How's Riario? They haven't captured him, if I understand correctly.  
\- No, he's having a blast, don't worry.  
\- Why can't I imagine him having a blast ?   
\- Because he wasn't like that in London... Come on, I'm hanging up because now you'll drop everything and leave. NOW!"  
He hung up.  
The girl looked around her, to the full room, to the four tourists in hippie outfits (they were reliving the London of their young years), to the table of regular actors and to Humphrey and his soft hat, who came every day to eat a Sheppard's pie with the same obvious pleasure.  
Then Rowan dropped a full plate in the kitchen.  
She emptied the cash register and ran out through the staff cloakroom door to a country she had never visited.  
On her way, the cobblestones were smiling at her.

***

Giròlamo had a bit of pink in his cheeks as he handed his list to Leo and Laura, who were sitting side by side, trying to solve the puzzle of Fausta's messages.

"They talk a lot about love, passion... the count muttered and I can't see any logical connection. I've written them down in the order of her visits, but is that the right way to read them? »  
They read:  
  
Fury  
It's not made of wind  
Bitterness turns into sweetness  
The abundance of intense pleasure  
Soul mates  
Enemies confess their love  
Tears the night of light  
A wrapped heart  
Friends walking away  
A radiant desire  
He heals your wounds by hurting you  
Beautiful face  
The very first desires  
The sweet glance  
Beware of the path  
Do you feel separated from your shadow?  
He gives me life and in doing so, takes it.  
  
"Sometimes she'd say the same sentence several nights in a row, as if to insist, he went on. Sometimes she didn't say anything, she hummed and stared at me. I was no more able to sleep when she was silent, because I could feel her gaze, as if it was on my cheek. »

Leo noted that the Count had received a much sexier speech from Fausta, but said nothing. Obviously, Giròlamo would be uncomfortable with that kind of hint...  
"And this is my list, he s said. I might as well tell you it doesn't suggest anything to me except a certain urgency..."  
  
Search! Seek!  
See me!  
Search for your real family  
Save lives, save MY life.  
The Wind Bird  
Search! Search!  
The land of the path is dark  
See my shadow, I live.  
Hasten to see and hear  
Cut down that which separates you from yourself...   
The soul of your enemy.  
  
Laura Cereta didn't say a word, but the two men felt the waves of tension around her, and were not surprised to hear her propose: "Let's try to intertwine them... maybe the key is there? You have noticed, there are common words... what if, in fact, they answered each other?  
\- Let's try that ! Leo concurred.  
\- Let's proceed logically, Giròlamo suggested ; we'll each copy the two lists, it'll prevent us from distracting each other, from unwittingly short-circuiting one another's intuition.  
\- You're right... that's how it happens when I paint: the idea passes and that's the moment someone else chooses to suggest another one to me. Farewell, idea!"  
They set to work.

They were being industrious, just like good students, when Tom came in:  
\- Damn it! Would it be too much asking to have a goddamn place to take a nap? "  
Leo didn't even look up, he raised his arm to point to the exit .  
His friend grumbled but walked out.  
Laura opened her mouth to say something, but immediately closed it again. It was really not the right time.  
  
After a long half hour, Leonardo got up silently to go and get a coffee. Laura looked at him and mimicked on her lips: "Do you have anything? "He nodded his head and waved his hand in a "more or less" message.

Five minutes later, Giròlamo leapt up, angrily crumpled his leaf and rushed out of the tent.  
The other two looked at the crumpled paper greedily, but did not touch it.  
They could guess easily enough, for having completed it themselves, that this sort of exercise could bring to the surface unwelcome images and ideas... and the Count's unconscious must not lack any more gloomy memories than their own.

Leo sat down next to Laura and showed her what he had assembled.   
  
Search for your real family  
Do you feel separated from your shadow?  
See my shadow, I live.  
Soul mates  
Save lives, save MY life.  
Hurry to see and hear  
Search, search!  
Friends are drifting away  
The sweet glance  
Enemies confess their love  
It's not made of wind  
Beware of the path  
The land of the path is dark  
The Wind Bird  
A radiant desire  
He gives me life and in doing so, takes it.  
Bitterness turns into sweetness  
Fury  
A wrapped heart  
The very first desires  
Beautiful face  
He heals your wounds by hurting you  
The abundance of intense pleasure  
Tears the night of light  
Search, search!  
Tear down that which separates you from yourself...  
The soul of your enemy. 

"Oh, my God, Leonardo! Look at mine: it's almost identical!  
\- And I bet Riario's is too! " Leo said.  
  
But the Count had taken the challenge a step further and made it a more fluid text:  
  
Seek your true family, you who feel separated from your shadow.  
See mine: I live... and we are soul mates.  
Save lives, save MY life.  
Hurry to see me and listen to me.  
Search, search, when friends go far away.  
See the sweet eyes of enemies, they confess their love, which is not made of wind.  
Beware of the path, for the land of the path is dark,  
Whereas the windbird is a radiant desire.  
He gives me life and, in doing so, takes it.  
Bitterness turns into sweetness and fury.  
A heart overwhelmed by the very first desires...  
Makes a pretty face heal your wounds by hurting you  
And the abundance of intense pleasure  
Tears up the night of light.  
Seek, seek, what separates you from yourself and the soul of your enemy.  
  
How could he have shown it to them?

***

Vanessa was surprised to find Giròlamo Riario to meet her at the airport. Surprised, and so happy that this stranger had made theeffort, that she hugged and kissed him as she would have done for her three friends.  
He returned the embrace, blinked and smiled, "Did you have a good trip, cara?  
\- Excellent! It was as if I was the one with wings... flying to the unknown... it's so exciting! But, damn, how hot it is here!  
\- Expect worse outside... By the way, let's go drink something hot before exposing yourself to the Sicilian climate, that is, if you're not too eager to meet your friends?  
\- Oh, it's not like I haven't seen them in ages, eh! I choose to follow your advice. »

He grabbed her bag, despite the girl's protests, and made his way to one of the airport cafeterias. A little embarrassed to walk with swinging arms at his side, she slipped an arm under his.  
It then occurred to him that this little redhead was like honey on a wound, that her presence and spontaneity alone were worth all the words of comfort.

And that he didn't deserve them.

In a flurry of indistinct colours and sounds, they reached a cafeteria-tea-room deserted by the majority of travelers, who mistakenly believed that a cool drink was required.  
They ordered tea.  
"How..." they began, at the same time.  
Vanessa laughed, "You have the honor. I'll save my question for later.  
\- How did you do at the pub? he asked as the waitress put a jar of milk and a sugar bowl in front of them. To the waitress, he said, "Do you by any chance smoke? I'm dying for a cigarette and I left mine in the car. She took a packet of JPS out of her jeans pocket and presented it to him. After several attempts to use her lighter, she handed it to him, her cheeks burning and stammering an excuse for her clumsiness. Riario lit it at the first attempt and thanked her, then turned to Vanessa:  
\- How's the pub?  
But she chuckled :  
\- I won't comment on what just happened there, but it was worth a scene from a romantic comedy. She continued: The pub was a disaster. Two more days with those idiots I'd been given as assistants and I swear I was good for the asylum... at best. Some milk? He nodded his head... and how come it is you who came looking for me? I mean, I'm very flattered that it's you, but I'm surprised.  
\- I pulled the rug from under Masini's feet. I wanted to be the one to welcome you and needed to get some distance.  
\- Oh! Tom's still insufferable, is he?  
\- Today, he's not the only reason I'm nervous.  
\- Ah! Good. You know, he's a good friend and he has a heart of gold, but when it comes to catching Leo's attention, he gets fierce. I experienced it for two months when Leo and I were dating: I got "Barbie doll" - she counted on her fingers - "cheeky kid", "scatterbrain", "snoopy mouse", "promiscuous chick"... well, I can't remember them all... But it's more violent when the competition is masculine, because the danger is multiplied by two: between a pretty girl and an ugly boy, Leo will prefer the pretty girl, but between a beautiful woman and a handsome man, Leo will always choose the latter.  
He preferred not to take the hint and said, while presenting her with the plate of cookies:  
\- I don't understand how the idea of the Barbie doll can cross anyone's mind when they think of you!  
She smiled, amused by the way he'd gotten around the obstacle. It wouldn't be easy to get him to talk about him and Leo.  
\- Most of the time, he just fishes ready-made phrases... But not with you, now that I think about it.  
\- It doesn't usually get to me, except after a while...  
\- Or when it's too unfair?  
\- I don't think any insult to me is ever unfair, Vanessa, he said stoically. I'm a criminal and a torturer, I don't try to hide it when I'm alone with myself. I can't even approve of five per cent of what I do and I tolerate being treated as such by some people... not others, it's as simple as that."  
She was about to ask a question that was too personal but gave up. Something was burning underneath that impassivity, she could feel it. Instead, she asked him to talk about what he was doing here.  
He was grateful for this change of course, that he knew was deliberate, and began to talk about Fausta, Laura Cereta and all the collaborators of the digging site.

Fortunately, the length of the journey allowed him to avoid the latest twist in the story, namely the content of the intertwined messages.  
He was not yet able to talk about it in all serenity.

***  
  
Twenty-four hours later, Leo decided to seek Riario on the construction site, in what was now called "Fausta's room", which the Count had closed and reserved for the exclusive use of Laura and himself.  
He had sent all the others twenty metres further on, where he believed there was another buried building from the same period.

Leo knew the Count was running away from him, but he was wondering why. He rummaged through his recent recollections to try to guess what blunder he had made, but could not find a single one that justified such a rejection.

The painter had not at all interpreted the message of the beautiful Byzantine in the same way as Riario and he needed to consult him to find a possible clue to his version of the story.  
He was convinced that the mosaic was asking them to search her life, to look for her family and presumably to trace the great love of her life - be it husband or lover - and that this, the most important point of the message, was to save lives, thousands of lives.  
So, to hell with pride, that night he had decided to take a step, to build a bridge between himself and that stubborn mule head that he had perhaps offended.

Riario was startled when he heard his first name.  
"Giròlamo? I need to talk to you about what we found.  
\- Not now, Da Vinci, the other answered, scathing.  
\- Well, it will nonetheless be now or never. Either you deign to listen to me and answer me, or I'll get on the first flight back to London. After all, in any collaboration there are always two or more collaborators, and I don't have any left. So, I am willing to apologize for the unconscious insult I may have made to you, but for heaven's sake, stop running away as soon as I appear!  
The Count still had not turned away from his work, and continued to turn his back on him. He took a deep breath, asked his question and held back his breath, eyelids closed:  
\- What is your interpretation of the recomposed message?  
\- It will remain partial if no one illuminates my lantern a little... I think Fausta is telling us to find her genealogy and the man she loved, to save lives... and don't ask me how we can achieve that, I don't know.  
Riario resumed breathing:  
\- First of all, I must know... have you recovered sleep, Artista?  
Leo felt relieved: "Artista" meant relaxation and kindness:  
\- No. That's to be expected: unlessl we solve the riddle, that's the way it will be. Are you sleeping well?  
\- No, I don't sleep well. More and more poorly still, ad a matter of fact.  
Finally, he deigned to face his interlocutor.  
Leo took a bold step, approached, and began to walk around the room:  
\- You interpreted the message as I did, didn't you?  
\- No, but I bet Laura didn't either. I think there are as many possible interpretations as there are interpreters.  
\- What did you read in it?  
\- Nothing very conclusive. I prefer your hypothesis.  
Leo stopped to look at him with his arms folded:  
\- It's rare to see you surrender so quickly, Count.  
\- What does it matter? I'm with you, Leonardo.  
\- Why do you follow me?  
Mistrust and suspicion.  
Giròlamo displayed one of his half smiles, came closer and put his hand on his shoulder, summoned what he had been repeating to himself for two days in order to be able to look him in the eyes: he and that boy were light and shadow, their natures were not only different, but downright opposite; finally, they were and would remain bound to belong in opposing camps.  
\- Why do you agree to follow me, Giròlamo? Leo insisted. I'm your junior and much less experienced: you have a long history of tactics, diplomacy, fighting, while I've just thrown myself into the water, barely knowing how to swim. I don't doubt the option I've chosen, I know it's the right one... But why do you accept it?  
\- I'm not one of those who assume that their companions or enemies omit to ponder the problem before following an unknown path. This reflects a kind of intellectual complacency, that my upbringing did not encourage. On the contrary, I assume that logic directs your choices. Not necessarily the same logic as mine, but I trust your intelligence enough to rely on it, that's all.  
\- It hasn't happened often, believe me! I'm generally taken for a pure dreamer, a mere creature of instincts and intuitions... even of madness. My father always saw me as his greatest failure.  
\- Welcome to the club of morally repudiated sons! Mine won't let me call him father, and “Dad“ would strike him down on the spot. He laughed, bitter: note that this word would not even come to me, it conveys a tenderness that I am far from feeling, as you will have understood by now! »

This partially alleviated the strain.

That night, many at the camp felt like things were getting back to normal, when they saw them talking to each other again and Laura regained hope... a little.


	17. Fausta's court.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Although Leo and the Count were still suffering from insomnia, Riario's ploy, his decision to ignore his own reading of Fausta's messages in favor of the artist's had dispelled the feeling of undecidedness. Everyone was pursuing the same path with the same goal in mind, and this had strengthened a team cohesion that encouraged them all."

Leonardo had put his friends to work and, so far, genealogical research on Fausta was progressing well.  
While the excavation team continued its work, Tommaso, Vanessa, Nico and himself were scouring the net in search of her ancestors and descendants.  
Not surprisingly, the names of his parents, siblings and children were soon found, since after all, ordinary people were not depicted on mosaics. She did belong to a famous house.  
After only one day, they knew that she was the granddaughter of a lord and cousin of a countess and queen of Sicily, born in 1060 and deceased in 1108 in Palermo.  
Her name was Fausta Montserrat and she had married a certain Fabrizzio della Vecchia, a condottiere who had died at the age of thirty.  
Leo had gone to the library in Palermo and returned with a list of references, but of course one of the Italian friends would have to be sent there to consult the documents. Nico did have some knowledge of the language, but not enough to read documents from a sometimes distant time when the language was not even standardized. Alberto or his wife, Audrey, the two teachers would probably take on the task, because Giròlamo and Laura, obsessed by the second partially revealed mosaic, would not let anyone else put their finger on it.

A bond of friendship was forming between Tom and Laura   
She seemed to be the only one who understood his jealous outbursts, trying to comfort him from time to time with simple gestures and words.   
According to Laura, his London friends tended to take for granted the devotion he showed despite the many rebuffs. Of course, she didn't tell him so, and, instead, tried to reason with him, to make him realize that his outrageous insults would not earn him any more respect or love from Leo.  
"I know the cruelty of jealousy, Tom, believe me, it is tenacious and constant and deceitful too, when it makes you see the worst in the most trivial gestures and looks. She had confided in him the very night they arrived, coming out of Fausta's cellar, when she had caught him drying a tear in a place away from the camp.   
\- So, how do you manage to hide it? he had exclaimed. How can you witness in silence what's hatching between them?  
\- I'm no better than you or anyone else, but I'm lucky enough to be very realistic and to love Giròlamo in a selfless way: I expect nothing more from him than his presence. I know I'll lose this closeness one day or another, but for now, I'm taking advantage of what's offered to me. Hell, for me, would not be to see him happy with Leonardo, but not to see him at all, do you understand?  
\- I think I do. Only, I'm very possessive, you see, it's my nature! But surely you're right. And, of us two, it's undoubtedly you who knows how to love best... But I can't help reacting this way, thinking he's stupid not to see what I'd be able and willing to do for him.  
\- And you don't trust Giròlamo at all.  
\- Not one bit... it's epidermal, I can feel the danger, the possible treachery...  
\- Believe me, you're wrong... but I know I can't convince you of this. She concluded, putting one hand on his arm: Come on, let's go back to the camp, a good night's sleep will erase some of the grief. »  
But on returning to the cot he had been assigned, he found Leo sleeping on it and the Count sleeping on the painter's bunk...  
« What the fuck ! »

*** 

Five days after Vanessa's arrival, the whole camp was humming in a good mood. Although Leo and the Count were still suffering from insomnia, Riario's ploy, his decision to ignore his own reading of Fausta's messages in favor of the artist's had dispelled the feeling of undecidedness. Everyone was pursuing the same path with the same goal in mind, and this had strengthened a team cohesion that encouraged them all. With a boomerang effect, Giròlamo himself had regained the necessary excitement and optimism.  
However, that evening, as the almost complete team had gathered at the table for dinner - the Ghanaians and Bostonians had decided to take a trip to the city - Nico suddenly lost his patience. In the middle of a feast of penne al arrabiata, he remembered that the academic year started three days later and that he wasn't enrolled in any courses yet.  
He brooded over the idea for a few bites and then threw his cutlery down noisily and grumbled as he triturated a napkin: "And after all this, who says your theory is the right one, Leonardo?  
Leo stared at him, mouth ajar with surprise, and said:  
\- No one. It's just one of the three interpretations we've chosen to explore at the moment.  
\- Yeah, well... if you ask me, I don't see how piecing together this Fausta Montserrat genealogy is going to save any lives! I mean, that's a stupid tale !  
\- We have to close this door before we open another, Riario intervened on a pacifying tone, savouring his Chianti,It's the only logical procedure, Nico.  
\- And next, you'll tell us it also makes sense to keep us all here serving a cause we don't give a shit about, and that doesn't concern us any more than a cat fart in Abyssinia? Tom added.  
\- If you miss Lucas Webb, Leo retorted, I'm not opposed to your returning to London... Knowing of course that you'll pay dearly for letting the man down.  
Tom raised his index finger to rectify:  
\- Pardon me, sir... it's “ For not giving him what he requested" !  
\- What, Giròlamo ? said Vanessa. If any of you stoop to that, I'm warning you right now that he's crossed off my list !  
\- Ha ! Now we've seen it all ! Lady Turtle Dove falling in love with Count Vulture now ! Tom scoffed.  
She rolled her eyes and blushed intensely:  
\- How dumb you can be when you put your mind to it ! Whether it's Giròlamo, Laura or anyone else, the idea disgusts me. You can't abandon a person to the vengeance of a bastard without becoming one yourself. That's what it's all about... not love, nor primary jealousy.  
\- I agree with that, Nico confirmed. That's not the problem. Are we chasing ghosts or doing something useful ? That is what matters to me.  
\- You can't know that, Riario said. That's the big issue about research as a whole : all great discoveries and advances were born from an intuition, from an idea. Was it justified, under the pretext that they had nothing concrete a-priori, to abandon them to return to more realistic prerequisite ? I do not think so.  
\- And if this woman appears to us out of nowhere and steals our sleep from us, that intrigues me, Leo added. It's too amazing to be pure chance.  
\- Says the echo of darkness! Tom commented.  
Leo turned pale and stood up in a cold rage :  
\- Tom, you're coming with me. We really need to have this conversation. I'm sick and tired of your empty and idiotic remarks.  
Tom threw his napkin on the table and followed him with a very determined stride:  
\- Oh, yes ! Fuck, yes, we need to talk !  
Silence fell for a moment upon the assembly.   
\- All in all, love only makes you unhappy, Laura then said.  
\- Not always, Alberto objected, but one must be able to open one's eyes and give it up when it's a vain dream. »  
Vanessa was the only one to notice the frightened look Laura cast on her left and the tension on Giròlamo's lips.   
She needed to talk to this woman, because she obviously knew too.  
The Count's phone rang at that very moment. He answered the call, turned pale and stood up:   
\- Forgive me, I must go." he said, hurrying out. 

***  
  
"Don't do this! It's a ruse, meant to call you back to London and have you pay for your insubordination ! Leo pleaded.  
The count was filling a bag without even bothering to fold his laundry.Leo knew then that he would not convince him : order and care were second nature to Riario, and if he flouted them so much, then this was a sign that trouble was really at hand.  
\- I can't leave Giovanni alone, Artista: she's his wife, she's coming out of a very bad situation and he'll do everything to protect her. He can't do it alone, he needs my help.  
\- I understand... you're loyal to him and that's honorable and natural, but... But be careful, Giròlamo.  
Riario paused to look at him:  
\- Thank you, Leo.  
\- Call us at least once a day, so we know you're all right.  
\- I'll try, I promise. »

There they were, face to face, paralyzed with embarrassment.  
Friends could have hugged, enemies could have insulted and cursed, but what were they really ? Neither. Not really one nor really the other.  
There they were, with aching throats, racing hearts, while the toads outside were making a hell of a noise, to sing about how much they were laughing at them, how ridiculous those humans could be.   
At such moments, the innocent noises of nature can sound like bravado, underlining your incomprehensible but tangible human dismay. 

***  
  
At ten thirty the next morning, Giovanni della Rovere received a message on his telephone. It vibrated, like the other one, the one the Pasha knew about, but he always put it in another pocket. That's how Giovanni and his cousin had been cheating on him for years.  
" What is it, Commander?" asked Della Rovere.  
\- Confirmation from Florence, Sir: the Basito affair is settled.  
\- Wonderful ! the man said, stirring his hot chocolate. Get me Carmino and Webb. Those two will settle my London problem between them. Let them knowt hey are expected here at three o'clock this afternoon.  
\- Sir, is it safe to...  
\- What, are you gonna teach me the business? Come on! Do as I say. When they get here, I want you here as well. You never know what these savages are capable of ... they're not very cold-blooded and I'm counting on that, while not wanting to expose myself!  
\- Very good, sir.  
\- Come on! I'm going to take a bath. I don't want to be disturbed ! »

As soon as he was out of the salon, Giovanni circulated the directions and set off for Little Venice. He took the underground: do not ever use any of the cars of the Forza for personal use, especially of this nature!

He hoped that Giròlamo hadn't told Da Vinci too much, when he had asked him for the key to his boat, after all, he was a Webb man and men were easy to manipulate, Giovanni was in a good position to know that. For thirty years, he himself had been blindly obeying to ensure the safety of his people.

When one belongs to the Forza, as it were by way of a "dynasty", one should not form bonds, neither friendship nor love. Giròlamo had understood that. Giovanni was all the more sorry to involve him in this story. He suspected what such freedom entailed: total, black and icy solitude. Never allowing yourself friends, never falling in love and forgetting about kids.   
Giovanni had tried this once, but he hadn't held out. When Giovanna, his first wife, had died, he had had a glimpse of this kind of emotional isolation and hated it. That's how he had given in to the powerful impulse that pushed him towards Graziella, after a year of widowhood, and married her.

And there we were: she, a prisoner in Florence, on the verge of becoming the plaything of one of those sordid networks that brought so much money to the Forza; he, helpless and scared to death, and his cousin dragged along in spite of himself in a perilous rescue attempt.  
From all this, when he knocked on the boat's door, he would have cried.   
What a mess! 

***  
  
Seeing Graziella's photo, Giròlamo turned pale. He had known Giovanna, but, by choice, never met his new cousin-in-law. Not only were he and Giovanni supposed to be rivals, but also because he had not wanted to put a face to a name that was automatically stamped with the seal "potential victim".  
What?" Giovanni asked, himself suddenly too pale.  
Giròlamo realized:  
\- No, it's nothing. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It's just a feeling of déjà vu, you know, a moment that comes back to mind.  
\- You scared me!  
\- I can see that. I'm sorry, Gio... So...  
\- Wait! Are you sure about this young painter? Do you think he can handle the secret?  
\- Yes. He'll keep the secret.  
\- I'm not talking about keeping it, cousin, I'm talking about putting up with it, loving it to the point of making it go through hell without letting go.  
\- Yes, I trust his courage. He's a rebel, Giovanni, a true one, one of those that you don't break.  
\- Then it's okay.  
\- Fine, then. Your turn, then. Are you sure they took her to Florence?  
\- I'm sure that's where Gabrielle saw her Tuesday night through Wednesday.  
\- Which gives us a good chance that she's still there. Spinella usually picks them up on Thursdays. From there, they swarm to the four cardinal points and then it gets complicated. So, I am taking the first flight to Florence, I will have contacted some friends on the spot beforehand. I'll need help: I won't be able to get her out of the "Arsenale" on my own. As soon as I have her... Ah! Wait: you have to give me something to assure her that I'm reliable.  
\- She knows who you are, but here, take my wedding ring !  
\- So the Pasha will notice you're not wearing it anymore? Forget it ! No, just a common memory, a phrase, an anecdote that only you two know.  
\- Venice 2016. The gondolier madly in love.  
Giròlamo smiled:  
\- Maybe it's not that rare, but we'll make do with it.  
\- Not so rare, that' s quick to say: it was ME he was madly in love with!  
Riario couldn't hold back a burst of laughter at the idea of his cousin's face under such circumstances :  
\- It's perfect! She'll definitely know that you didn't entrust this to just anyone! So, as soon as I get her out of there, I'll send you a message that only you can understand and I'll take her to Sicily, to the excavation site. It's still the safest place to be until you can find a better exile. We'll see what happens next.  
\- I wish I could go with you.  
\- I know you do, but you can't. He'd get suspicious. You're not supposed to know anything about her abduction, are you?  
\- No, I'm not supposed to. According to Gabrielle-- you know, the Tornatori guy who warned me, he won't use blackmail until the girls have been... "dispatched," as they say.  
Giovanni got a chill and tears came to his eyes. Giròlamo put a hand on his arm:  
\- Courage and faith, Gio. We're going to get her out of there, at any cost. If things really go that far, Leo knows a guy who could help us on a European scale.  
\- "Leo," huh? Giovanni smiled.  
Giròlamo shrugged his shoulders in helplessness and changed the subject as quickly as possible:  
\- Here we are. I don't want to waste time, so I'll leave you now.  
\- Thank you, cousin !  
\- Only when I succeed... Hold on and pray for us, maybe it will help.  
\- Maybe ? What happened to your faith, Girò ? Giovanni said, surprised.  
\- I think I put it to too much use, it's time to rely on myself alone.  
\- This atheist of yours is turning your life upside down. Beware, dude! »  
They got up to get out.  
Before closing the door, the Count took one last look inside: it was Leo's place, it was a little bit of him.


	18. The "Arsenale".

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Giròlamo Riario puts on his familiar uniform.

Laura was coming out of Fausta's room when she got the call. "G.R.," she read. Two initials so cold for the one she loved more than anything.  
"How are you, Giròlamo?  
She heard his smile:  
\- Good day, Signora Cereta !  
\- Ha! Ha! Yes, I know that's how you normally start, but we're worried sick about you here !  
\- I'm all right, Laura, don't be afraid. It's only twenty-four hours since I left... I'm about to go into the most delicate part of my business and I wanted to tell you... Oddly enough, it may have something to do with our research.  
\- Does it, really ?  
\- I'm sending you a picture of the person I'm looking for right now. Find the painting from 1068 and compare the two. You'll let me know if my imagination is playing tricks on me. I have a name too: Montferrat. If you, too, feel that the resemblance is enough, try to trace the genealogy of Graziella Montferrat, I would be curious to see where it leads us. Only, wait for my next phone call to do so. I fear the hackers of the Forza, I wouldn't want to put this woman in even more danger because of too much activity around her name on the net.  
\- Montserrat - Montferrat... an alteration over time... it's not uncommon at all. Oh, it would be a real advance if they happened to be related !  
\- It would be a great step towards confirming Leonardo's hypothesis.  
\- Wait, Giròlamo, he wants to talk to you.  
When she had discovered the identity of the person who was calling, she had waved to Leo, who had come running...  
\- Damn it, Count ! Twenty-four hours, and I told you to call twice a day !  
\- Artista ! What a happy surprise to know that you, for once, are pleased with my initiative !  
Leo laughed:  
\- Well, now... Yes. But don't do it again, eh !  
\- My cousin says hello. I reassured him about you: he was afraid of the influence of your conduct upon me.  
Leo frowned:  
\- Giròlamo, you seem... strange. Have you been smoking ?  
\- Ah, yes. That too: your remedy for insomnia seems to have awakened my passion for cigarettes... But no, in this case I'm sticking to JPS: I need all my lucidity right now. Laura will bring you up to date on my latest hunches. I hope they're not pure fantasy.  
\- We could use a little help from fate here.  
\- Take my place in Fausta's room in my absence: this second mosaic intrigues me and I can't wait to see it at last.  
\- Okay, I will. Thank you.  
\- For what?  
\- For your trust: I haven't forgotten that you don't let anyone but the two of you touch it.  
\- Oh ! This ? That was mostly just an excuse to be left alone. You're an artist, you possess the required delicacy. As for trust... you do know you have it, don't you ?  
\- I do. I wish I could be certain, too, that you would avoid unnecessary danger.  
\- I'll try to do that. If I can, I'll call you tomorrow... Goodbye, Da Vinci !  
\- I... Um... Yes, goodbye, Giròlamo !   
Leo was staring at the phone, frowning, as if it was going to give him the key to some fabulous mystery or magically make him cross the screen.  
Laura looked at his face in much the same way, greedily, waiting for the revelation to finally strike him.  
\- I hate it ! he said.  
\- What, then, Leonardo ? Did he seem strange to you ?  
\- I don't know if strange is the word, but... different anyway. More relaxed, but bordering on exhilaration.  
\- I see. He must have changed back into his captain's uniform, she said, as if her mind were elsewhere. It may sound strange, but he always says it's been cut to fit him, so to speak. It probably gives him an assurance he doesn't otherwise have.  
Leo made a grimace:  
\- Are you talking about that horrible black thing that looks like an SS uniform?  
\- The cross distinguishes it from that terrible thing, Leonardo ! She protested, a little offended.  
\- Yes, white, boisterous, peremptory...  
\- "I was born in it," is what he says when he talks about it. Doesn't mean he likes what it's associated with... I think you should compare it to the feeling you get when you put on an old comfortable sweater, in which you regain freedom of movement.  
\- And probably a little bit of your identity ?  
\- Probably, yeah.  
\- I think it's scary for this to happen wearing this outfit, Laura.  
She put one hand on his shoulder:  
\- He's not like us, he doesn't have our freedom. While the absence of shackles delights us, it destabilizes him. We must give him time to learn how to let himself be carried by the currents and choose which one to follow... Are you coming ? If I understand correctly, he entrusts you with Fausta's companion ?  
\- Yes. But I'd rather be over there, where the action is! »  
She added for him, in her thoughts, the words he was not yet ready to acknowledge, namely "At his side“. 

***  
  
The "Arsenale" was a labyrinth that Giròlamo knew like his own Florentine villa. He had first been taken on a tour of it as a young teenager, coming out of the monastery where he had grown up, for two quite different reasons: to discover guns and girls.  
Unfortunately, he had not liked either one more than the other.  
From sexuality, very early on, his body had intimately integrated the notions of shame, pain and servitude. He had learned that your own body can be used as a mere machine, a traitor that vibrates and makes you come at the very moment when you would rather vomit the constraint that is imposed on you. He had learned from this a faculty of splitting himself up in painful moments, of getting out of his own body, waiting for the savagery to pass.  
From firearms, he liked neither the noise, nor the touch, nor the principle. It is too easy to dismiss the reality of a body that one destroys, if one does it from a distance. He had learned to use them expertly, because his training demanded it, but he had never given up his blades, hidden under his sleeves or prominently displayed at his belt, as they were right now.  
Besides, he found them much better suited to the functions he was performing most of the time. From the close protection of his father or of an important host, to risky or almost doomed negotiations, almost all of his missions called for hand-to-hand intervention.  
Of course, when he entered, the guard recognized him at once. Giròlamo introduced his two companions as new recruits, while, in fact, Enzo and Domenico both belonged to the anarchist group of Alberto and Audrey, who, like them, would have paid dearly for playing a dirty trick on the Forza. In this case, it was the other way around and it was even tastier: the Forza paid them to shoot a bullet in its own foot!  
Giròlamo had given them a very precise plan of the place and passed them some instructions in case of failure, leaving them in the basement while he himself went to the office of Commander Perti, in charge of the Arsenale.  
"Commander Perti, I need to find this girl. She has information of the utmost importance to us and I am in charge of taking it from her.  
The man barely looked at the photo and continued to bite into a sweaty, greasy doughnut:  
\- She's a very special recruit, Captain General, she's not with the others, he said in a voice dripping with obsequiousness.  
\- I am not asking you in any way to tell me whether or not she is with the flock: I want you to lead me to her.  
\- It's just that... the orders come from above: she's not to see anyone!  
\- Did I ever give the impression I was talking to you from below, Signor Perti?  
The man realized his awkwardness and perceived the threat in the Count's guttural but more powerful voice. A drop beaded from his forehead:  
\- Certainly not what I meant, Captain, forgive me... But your... our master called me personally and made it clear: Absolutely no one!  
Riario drew his knife and began to do his nails:  
\- Do you have the feeling right now of a certain heat that would burn the soles of your feet ? he asked, thoughtfully.  
\- V ... Very clearly, my lord.  
\- Good ! That means you're not dead. You might be soon enough, but luckily for you, I don't like to play with the dead: they're flabby, silent, and horribly apathetic. On the other hand, the living... That's when he jumped on the man, immobilized him and threatened: I have no time limit, Commander Perti, I can spend all night and more, picking your nails, like this... He slipped his knife under the nail of the Commander's index finger, making a tiny oscillation to dislodge the nail while pricking the raw flesh beneath. The man screamed, he stopped... By an effect of his great kindness, the Lord provided us with toenails on our feet, but also eyelids on our eyes and dozens of other centers of great pleasure... He attacked the nail of the middle finger.  
The Commander was sobbing between his cries, he surrendered:  
\- I'll show you! I'll show you!  
\- You see ! said Riario, benevolently, wiping his blade on his victim's tie, was it really worth leaving two perfectly sound fingernails there? »  
He helped the man to get up and, with his arm still in his, holding him tightly, followed him step by step to the cell where Graziella was being held.  
This would be the last, very short walk of Commander Perti, but perhaps also of Captain General Riario.


	19. Hard times.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rescue plan and last wishes.

The 4X4 was raising such a dust that they had been spotting it for ten minutes already, minutes that never stopped stretching, cruel like only time can be, when one would like it to be over already.  
Laura and Leo's nerves were threatening to break, like the strings of a guitar that were too taut, and their muscles were hard as stone.  
Nobody dared to speak, not even Tommaso, perfectly indifferent to the situation in itself, but his heart far too heavy from seeing Leonardo's anguish. Unlike the artist, who kept lying to himself, Tom didn't, he could no longer cling to that treacherous dream, he knew what was going on. But lucidity in no way prevents grief, quite to the contrary, it strips it off from all veils and shows it to your face, naked, in the violence and ugliness of its cruelty  
Finally, the vehicle stopped in the middle of the camp.  
When the young woman got out, eyes widened: it was as if their Fausta had come to meet them in the flesh after haunting them for so long. When Giovanni got out, Laura staggered, Leo whispered a furious and desperate "no!" and Vanessa hid her mouth with her shaky hand.  
They'd been hopeful for three days, encouraging each-other to keep up the spirits.  
Leo came and put his arm on Laura's shoulders.  
« Where is he ? he asked Giovanni, his throat dry, not caring about sterile civilities.  
\- I do not know. I'm sorry, said the Commander. I received a coded message from his Florentine accomplices to warn me that Graziella was free, but that Girò had never left the Arsenal... It was a trap.  
\- I told him! Leo cried out. I told him not to go! He raised his hands: I'm sorry, Giovanni, it's nothing against you, but, damn it! He could have found something else ! He kicked a bucket that was lying there, turned around and tried to recover some courtesy: sorry, Signora, for this odd greeting, but...  
\- But you're worried sick about your friend, and one would have to be an idiot not to understand that.  
He just nodded his head in agreement, lips tightened.  
He didn't know what, of Riario's absence or his own panic, was more unsettling to him. They weren't friends, for God's sake! Not even comrades!  
But there was no time for analysis , it was essential to question Giovanni, to find a solution.  
\- Come, said Laura, we're not going to leave you here, under this burning sun. Come and drink something inside.  
\- I can't linger, but I'd like to discuss with you about a plan to try and get my cousin out of this predicament, Giovanni said.  
\- We wouldn't have let you leave until we do, said Vanessa. We will not let him down.  
They were heading for the biggest tent.  
\- It's not going to be easy, given all the options my uncle can use to hide him from us, he warned.  
\- Yes, but, Leonardo objected, you know them all ! You're close to the decisions that are made, you know the places...  
In the tent, Alberto and Audrey were waiting for them with refreshments and food. They sat down around the table.  
However, Giovanni seemed more and more uncomfortable by the minutes. Vanessa, who had been watching him, suddenly pushed her plate away and interrupted Laura in the middle of a sentence:  
\- Admit that you don't even know if he's alive, she challenged the tall man.  
He cast his green eyes down:  
\- I... I don't know for certain.  
\- Do you think he would kill his own son?" Nico said, gawking.  
\- That man doesn't hold such values, young man: either you serve or you don't, that's the only standard. His whole family paid the price: my father, his brother, died for ceasing to be useful, and my aunts were sold to section chiefs of the Forza for good and loyal services to the organization; as for Girò... He' s just an accident along the way, nothing else. Since he was there, the Pasha simply chose to make him a formidable weapon, but that's where his worth and usefulness end. That's why I have to go back to Rome, where my uncle has been for the past three days, to try and find out more.  
\- I don't understand, said Leo: If you and Giròlamo are supposed to be adversaries, why did Della Rovere assume that he would rescue your wife ?  
\- Oh, he wasn't thinking of anything of the kind. When he found out that Giròlamo had been warned and in turn intended to kidnap Graziella, he saw two reasons: the first was to blackmail me into giving up the fight for the succession to the post of second in command, and the second was just one more little revenge against himself... Giròlamo has been playing tricks on him for a long time now, using his power as captain of the close guard.  
\- So he's not going to make you pay for this escape ? Well, that's one thing: you keep your influence.  
\- In principle, yes. For him, I have nothing to do with the whole operation. He sees it as a coup by the anarchists of Florence, who supposedly helped Girò by warning him first, then assisting him.  
\- In that case, Audrey intervened, we'll make sure he continues to believe it... I can arrange to have a gloating article in our newspaper... A victory over Forza usually makes the front page.  
\- The front page may be too much, Giovanni suggested, but a page two or three... Yes, that might strengthen his opinion.  
\- All right! I'll contact the managing editor right away.  
She went to one of the computers.  
\- But, how are you going to justify your ignorance ? Laura asked.  
\- The story goes like this: yesterday, on the phone, I pretended I was still in London and asked my uncle for a special leave to go to Rome, too - As soon as he heard about the escape, he had left London for Rome. That's where Graziella lives, at her mother's house, when I am out of Italy. I made-up a desperate call from her mother saying that Graziella hadn't given her any sign of life for a few days - needless to say I omitted to say how much. I pretended that I was worried about her fate and wanted to join my uncle and, at the same time, get closer to my wife. He stepped into the trap and snatched the opportunity to suggest to me that my cousin was behind this, as he would use every option to eliminate the rival that I am... I was sure he would say that. He even recommended the utmost caution, that pig! I obviously thanked him with all due obsequiousness - you, Da Vinci, know how submissive we can be...  
Leo had blushed. His insult had scarred Della Rovere's men.  
\- So, to him, you're still in Rome, looking for your wife, Nico summed up.  
\- Yes. And of course, I'll come home empty-handed and even more enraged towards Girò than before.  
\- It could work! Leo judged.  
\- It MUST work, Da Vinci, for it is the only subterfuge to locate my cousin... Otherwise, I told you, I might as well be looking for a ladybird in a poppy field... But, knowing him, I can assure you my uncle will very much enjoy entrusting me with the task and the pleasure of punishing him for what he did to me, and from there, anything is possible.  
\- You need help. I want to help you.  
For the first time, Giovanni let the shadow of a smile pass over his lips.  
\- What ? Tom exclaimed.  
\- Me too ! Nico and Vanessa said, in chorus.  
\- If you do, you'll have to travel separately, Giovanni recommended, if possible, each one using a different mode of transportation.  
\- Vanessa ? asked Leo.  
\- I enjoyed the plane, but I think you should be the first one to beon spot... So, it'll be the train for me, she blushed: I haven't passed my driving test yet.`  
\- That leaves me the car... if someone lends me the rental money, because I'm broke! Nico confessed.  
\- Don't worry, Laura said... I'll take care of your expenses. As I have to stay here, it will be a small contribution... I wish I could do so much more!  
\- Thank you ! Leo smiled. So, it's on : I'm taking the first plane and I'm waiting for your visit or a message for the latest news, Giovanni... I'll be at this address. He wrote down on a piece of tablecloth the address of a boarding house where he had stayed a year before on the occasion of an exhibition.  
\- Fuck ! You're all out of your minds !  
\- Tom, we're not going to... started Leo.  
But his friend had got up, tipped his chair over and pointed an accusing index finger at him and then at Giovanni:  
\- These men are Forza, damn it ! They kill, racketeer, smuggle and even sell human beings... That's what the lady escaped from. And you, you want to drag everyone along on the fucking train of horrors, just to save one of those bastards ? He hit his forehead a couple of times. Are you being stupid or what ?  
\- I'm not dragging anybody along. Nico and Nessa made their decision on their own, and I'm doing what I've always done : I make my options without listening to the second-hand self-righteous, then I act according to my judgment.  
\- Well, let me tell you that your fucking judgement has not been in the right place for some time now!  
\- If you say so, I trust you, you would know about these things after all!  
\- Peace! Vanessa shouted. I, in any case, I won't be made to change my mind. I'm going!  
\- Same here ! echoed the echo.  
\- Go to hell, all of you! ... I'm going too. » Tom said. 

***  
  
Clad in a straitjacket and under a mask worthy of Hannibal Lecter, Giròlamo was watching the comings and goings of his father in the archive room of the Forza in Rome.

It smelled of old cardboard and a bit of melted plastic. One of the electric cables from the ventilation or dehumidifier must be in agony... Soon there would be a fire here, he would have bet on it.  
The long warehouse was gray from floor to ceiling, functional, sinister. Only the stylish desk of the chief archivist, opposite him, indicated that someone hadn't forgotten all about refinement. The man must have had it brought from home, along with the famous amber Quadrifoglio lamp, probably a replica. Unless the chief of the archive's salary could match an original Aulenti ?

The Pasha had never been silent for so long. He still seemed to keep looking at the tip of his moccasins for the punishment he would deem worthy of his bastard son's betrayal. This did not augur well. Usually, inspiration came quickly to him in such matters.  
From time to time, for lack of a punch - difficult because of the mask - he would hit his bastard with his whip, at eye level, but without saying anything yet.  
That's how Giròlamo knew that he had reached a point of rupture, where nothing more could induce the great master of Forza to exercise his patience just this last time.

How would he end his days?  
The dogs ? No. Spectacular, but too fast to his father's taste.  
Acid ? Perhaps. In moderate doses, you could keep the show going for a long time.  
In any case, it would be nothing that required contact: no knife, then, because a blade penetrating flesh would convey too concrete a sensation.  
The whip became too tiring for him. He was getting old, in spite of everything, no matter what he thought.

What Giròlamo was most afraid of were the long, medieval executions, such as dismemberment, the saw, or evisceration... You couldn't get away from your body while your organs were being removed, he was sure of that, as much as of the disgust he felt at these practices....  
Did he ever inadvertently confess that in front of his father ? He hoped not, otherwise the recollection would come to him sooner or later, and he would rejoice at finally having put a name to what he was looking for.

Alessandro hadn't said anything yet when the pistons and cable of the elevator echoed in the silence of boxes and papers.  
« I said nobody! Della Rovere grumbled at last, annoyed, as he turned towards the entrance to the main hall. But then, he was delighted to realize who was coming there, a furious and determined tall man.  
He spread his arms for a one-off embrace : Giovanni ! You couldn't have come at a better time, nephew! »


	20. Sadistic characters.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everybody's in a nasty situation.

Camp was sleepy. Everyone seemed to be sulking, as far away as they could from the rest, or brooding about other projects.  
Fortunately, none of that.  
The truth was that Graziella della Rovere had cast a chill over this tiny part of Sicily in just two days.  
Discomfort weighed on her, as did the food, the climate, the drinks, the campfire evenings, the rickety shower and the evening gurgling of the toads.

Only one person had managed to find favour in her eyes from all those she had met: Leonardo.  
She hadn't yet told Laura what she thought of her, but had declared that Alberto and Audrey were mouldy hippies, frozen in their outdated idealism; the Bostonians were the butt-butter-born hillbillies; the Ghanaians were primates; Nico was the prototype of the retarded teenager, Nessa a flirtatious tease and Tommaso a big mouth with no stature.Since someone had to take care of her and ask her about her family, it was Laura who was subjected to this plague all the time. All she could hope for was that Giovanni would soon find a better place to keep her hidden.

Nevertheless, thanks to the information she had provided, it was now almost certain that she was, indeed, a descendant of Fausta's family. Whether she was in a direct line of descent remained to be discovered.  
At this very moment, on the evening of the second day of the London team's absence, Laura was waiting at her computer screen in feverish expectation of news from Leonardo, on the one hand, and scans of family documents promised by Graziella's uncle, on the other. The man was passionate about genealogy and had found traces of his illustrious ancestors as far back as 1206. A century earlier and we were there, we would be one giant step closer to Fausta.

In the meantime, Alberto and Audrey had been asked to go to Palermo the following day to go through all the available documents concerning the twelfth century elements that were missing from Graziella's uncle.  
Still nothing from Leonardo or anyone else in Rome. Laura was on the verge of tears. There was a weight on her stomach and a sore spot on her back that made her want to lie on the ground. But when she did, it didn't help and it was in her chest that a clamp settled and operated.

Graziella entered the tent and found her bent in two on her seat, holding her ribs, pale and with tears in her eyes.  
"You shouldn't get yourself in such a state for him, Laura, she said as she was brushing her hair. As far as I know, my husband's cousin has never had a single love affair in his life, so he must be completely immune to this feeling.  
\- Thank you, Graziella, that helps a lot. Laura gasped.  
The Signora della Rovere looked at her from head to toe, then from bottom to top. It must be a matter of age. Her mother had told her that some women in their forties regressed and found themselves in the grip of adolescent impulses, while their bodies sounded the alarm of an imminent end to their fertility.  
Of course, the archaeologist was still attractive, and even beautiful, but not young. The poor girl didn't have a chance, and the worst thing was that she didn't seem ready to realize it.  
Graziella came closer, to put a hand on the poor woman's shoulder:  
\- Be realistic: forget about him, live for yourself, don't sacrifice precious time to him!  
Laura looked up and pulled her blonde hair back. She said, as coldly as she could  
\- I'd like to be alone, Signora. Can you grant me that?  
Graziellla pursed her lips and shrugged her shoulders:  
\- As you wish... It's a pity, though, that a woman like you...  
\- Get out of here, Graziella. Go, before my patience is truly exhausted! »  
Her eyes didn't lie. The beautiful Roman woman turned her back and walked away, in her nonchalant stride, to the cot placed at her disposal.As she passed by, she opened the fridge, looked through the contents and took three of the ten vanilla-coconut cream cups that Alberto had prepared for the next day. 

***  
  
Giovanni pays no attention to his uncle's open arms, he runs straight at Giròlamo and gives him a god-awful right jab.  
The eyebrow arch explodes, blood flows in abundance. 

That's good!

He hasn't even calculated with the presence of the mask, he has no fear of hurting manicured hands, like his uncle's. He's a warrior at heart, a force of nature.  
He doesn't scream, he doesn't need to, his baritone has made a couple of giants tremble: "I'm going to make you pay dearly for this, I promise you, vermin! Maybe you thought that your silly little anarchists would keep their mouths shut? That they weren't for sale? Tough luck, motherfucker, they're just like all the others, you hear me? Just like all the others!  
He turns to Della Rovere, who has grown very pale: he's never seen his nephew in such a rage from this close.  
\- Will you finally tell me? he mumbles... But his voice is no longer an order, just a request.  
Giovanni points an accusing index finger at Giròlamo:  
\- That shit in uniform got my wife kidnapped, as you supposed. But that's not the end of his dirty tricks, oh no!...  
\- My God! … Have you even found her? asks the pasha, gathering all the compassion of the world in his face.  
\- Yes, but do you know that this little bastard has been deceiving us for more than six years about the terrain in Sicily?  
Riario blinks his eyes to chase away the blood. He wants to see every expression on Gio's face, make sure he's just putting on a good show. Because right now, he's revealing the secret of his precious digs...  
\- What do you mean, the terrain in Sicily? The one I wanted to build the hotel complex on? This time Della Rovere doesn't have to pretend any more, he's suspicious, only one step away from radiant rage.  
\- The very same! And you'll never guess to what end... To tell you the truth, I can hardly believe it myself, although I've suspected deception for a long time.  
\- To what end, then?  
\- You see, my cousin has visions... Calls from the thereafter, that told him to search the soil of the place. And bingo! They found the remains of an ancient village... The property was indeed buildable and suitable for tourism, but his Highness Riario, here, launched an excavation team on the case. They've been at work for five years... But, of course, archaeological digs don't happen without an expert.  
Giròlamo now feels that a thick, dry knot of rope is forming in his throat... No, he can't have been that wrong!  
\- Do you know who's in charge of the site? Giovanni goes on. A lady you thought was dead, whom he was in charge of eliminating!  
\- What? the pasha exclaims, shooting Giròlamo with his gaze. Who's that?  
\- La Signora Laura Cereta.  
\- The wife of my former commander? That viper in a suit?  
\- That's right!  
Della Rovere shows his prisoner a fist:  
\- If your cousin doesn't kill you, it will be me, Riario!  
\- But that's not all! Giovanni resumes.  
And there, Riario knows he's lost. He's just taken out his two cell phones.  
\- As I've been suspecting him for quite a while, I got into his game when he offered to give me a cell phone that would be reserved for calls between us... Same ring tone, so as not to put you on the track, but different pockets... One phone for Forza, one for his shenanigans. And I swear you can find some good ones when you look into my cousin's business...

As Alessandro recovers from the news, Giovanni whistles, footsteps approach. Two men enter, two lieutenants, who were walking by... They are dragging an inert man by his arms...  
Underneath his mask, the count cannot help shouting. Even if it's no use, even if it won't turn back time, even if Leo obviously can't hear.  
The men throw the body to the ground, like a sack. Leonardo's hair is stuck with blood, his face is swollen.  
Alessandro della Rovere looks at the man on the ground and then at Riario in turn, several times. He sees the tears. He figures it all out and bursts out laughing.  
Giovanni roars, triumphant:  
\- Meet the late, new partner of Forza's Captain General, my uncle: an obscure and debauched painter, forced to serve in a pub to earn a crust!  
The sight and words turn Riario's stomach... the “late“ partner... he's scared to death, like so many of his victims before him, but not for himself...  
\- Uncle, let me take revenge and avenge La Forza before witnesses: let it be clear to all that a captain is no more immune to punishment than an inferior!  
Still very entertained, Alessandro agrees:  
\- That's a good idea. What do you have in mind?  
\- I took the liberty to summon the commanders to the HQ of our guard training centre... Does that seem appropriate to you?  
The pasha gives his nephew a big pat on the back... For once, an initiative that isn't his own pleases him. His hatred for his son obliterates even his pride as a great master:  
\- You'll make an excellent second, Giovanni! Really!"

On the ground, Leo still doesn’t move a finger.  
Giròlamo doesn’t even make an attempt at holding back the tears and muffled sobs. He doesn’t care.


	21. Eyes tight open.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leo opens his eyes... on both cousins' activities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this poor attempt at an allusion to 'Eyes Wide Shut" ;-)

They had reached Cassino, halfway to Naples. The interior of the car resembled a lifeboat, swept by the beam of a lighthouse, shadows and lights illuminating it intermittently as the traffic flowed.

They had kept silent until then, each of them replaying the film of the events they had orchestrated, in the Archives of the Forza or afterwards, when they had tried to get out with some dignity, dressed in the ill-fitting uniforms of the two lieutenants of Della Rovere for Tom and Leo, or in their battered and bloodstained uniforms for Giovanni and Riario. Indeed, the interior of the car still had that coppery smell characteristic of accident or battle scenes.

Giròlamo was still not fully ‘operational’. Never in his life, not under any circumstances, except perhaps in his childhood, had he experienced such fear, felt that devastated. Anyway, never in action.

But there, helpless in his straitjacket and under his mask, he had had the impression of reliving the terrors of his youth, when, paralysed, he could already picture in his mind what was awaiting him on the other side of a door.

Giovanni decided to put an end to this atmosphere of funeral wakes. He turned around in the passenger seat where he was sitting and addressed his cousin: "Girò, if you don’t pull yourself together right now, I’m going to start worrying. You’re scaring the hell out of me.

—If it were your turn, it would only be fair, Riario grumbled. Can you imagine, just for a moment what I thought?

—It had to convince him, Count, Leonardo pleaded, resting one hand on his arm, it was necessary to put your father’s vigilance, and that of the two guards, to sleep.

Giròlamo tried a smile. Half-failed.

—Who made-up your face and hair, dear Da Vinci?

To Leo’s surprise, he felt fingers on his cheek and Riario tested the make-up between his thumb and forefinger.

—Nessa... You know she does theatre too.

Giovanni hadn’t lost a drop:

—Did you really think he was dead? he asked with a slight nod toward Leo.

—I imagined everything ... the insults, beating, torture, and ... yes, death. And all this, because of me, on top of it all.

His voice sounded uncertain, a bit shaky still, his cousin didn’t push more. Knowing Girò, he must have felt embarrassed enough to cry with relief when Da Vinci had "recovered" to go and release him from the straitjacket.

Silly tender, stronghold! A chest freezer, those who didn’t know him would say.

At the wheel, Tom hadn’t said a word yet. He glanced suspiciously in the rear-view mirror from time to time, but he’d sooner have had his tongue cut out than appear to feelany interest in the Count’s fate.

Leo took a flask out of his pocket and handed it to his companion:

—Drink this!

—What is it?

—Not poison.

—Artista, I just wish to know what to expect! the count chuckled.

—Vodka.

—Ah! Great idea. He took a sip and spat right away. What in God’s name did you add to it?

—Some home remedies: herbs ... they soothe the pain and make it easier to heal ... because, now, you look like the Frankenstein monster, you know.

—... Says Mr Hyde.

They smiled. The first real smile:

—It’s so good to have you back, Count!

The car swerved.

—Masini! Look at the road, I want to go home safe! Giovanni grumbled.

Tom shrugged his shoulders and made a grimace, mumbling quite indistinctly:

“It’s so good to have you back, Count.” You might think you’re dreaming... And what’s next? Candlelight dinner? The walk into the sunset, hand in hand?’ He spat, in disgust.

—How about taking a detour to the Shelter of Salerno, Tom? Leo suddenly said.

—At this hour? In two hours, it will be four o’clock, it will be closed, if you only let me remind you... Do you remember, or have you left your old life too far behind your new world for you to recall?

—It’s precisely because it is closed that we could leave a little gift for Lucas, on the sly!

—What? the other three exclaimed.

—You’re planning to leave the Pasha’s body in one of Webb’s pubs? said Giovanni, stunned.

—Why not? Let him deal with it: it will teach him a lesson. At least he’ll know for sure that his troubles with the Forza are well and truly behind him!

Maybe it’s not such a bad idea? Giròlamo remarked.

—But ... it amounts to signing the crime! Giovanni objected.

Leo raised an index finger:

—Officially, I’m still working for him... How could he prove that he didn’t pay me to do it?

—No,Tom intervened, categorically, he will think it’s you AND the Prince of Darkness here... Now, if you want to ... hem ... screw your new best friend, personally, I have nothing against it, eh ... but I know you’d be biting your fingers off soon afterwards. You’ll excuse me, but the ‘it’s my fault’, ‘I’m guilty’ Leo, I know him : he’s annoying and unbearable. So, no, thank you very much, choose something else!

—He’s not wrong, Giovanni said ... at least, regarding the beginning of his speech. I can’t judge about the rest.

—For the rest too, Leo admitted. No Shelter, then... It’s a pity, I was already imagining the phone call: ‘Boss, in Salerno we have a dead man in the pub, delivered during the night. What do we do with him?’

—Salerno ... said Giròlamo, pensive.

Giovanni suddenly turned around again:

—Corbelli. Giuseppe Corbelli! He owes us a favour, doesn’t he?

—Yes... And for him, one body more, one body less...

—What does he do, your Corbelli?” Leo cut in, He’s an undertaker?

—Forensic scientist. Girò and I saved his life in a matter about an autopsy of one of Forza’s victims... He allowed the police to trace the murder back to one of our men, and my uncle wanted him dead.

—Why did you spare him?

—Because the one who deserved the punishment was the one who had left clues on the body, not Corbelli, who had done his job well, Giròlamo stated.

—He could make him unidentifiable, Giovanni said.

—Or better yet, have him cremated!"

Leo had followed the exchange in amazement. There was something a bit scary about the matter-of-fact tone.

For the first time, reality was staring him straight in the face. It was as if, until now, the world of the two cousins had remained in the realm of the abstract. But the way they were talking about the fate of their relative’s remain made it much more concrete.

In his rear-view mirror, Tom saw him huddle up against the door and pinch his lip between his thumb and index finger, his gaze lost into the headlight-swept night.

He smiled.

(Welcome to the kingdom of His Reptilian Majesty... dear _Artista_!) 

***

Vanessa and Nico were already back at the excavation site, they had landed in Palermo while Tom, Giovanni, Leo and Giròlamo were parking the car in a small road on the outskirts of Naples to try to get some sleep.

As soon as they had received Tom’s call that they were all safe, “if not sound”, Vanessa had called Laura to reassure her. She liked this tall woman who hid her emotionality under a somewhat surly air. She also liked her passion for the work being done here and the way she looked at the Count. Like herself, she probably saw him as a saviour... There must have been something about rescue in their common history.

« I’ve never travelled so much in my life yet, she said, that morning, gathering her long copper hair in a bun, but I’ve been dying of thirst for two days, as if the transport had dehydrated me! Coffee, Laura? Nico?

—Water for me, Nessa, I intend to eat some fruit, Nico replied.

—Coffee for me, thank you! You can’t imagine how happy I feel to have you here... These three days have been hell!

—The Signora Della Rovere stared at me as if I had just come straight out of a garbage dump, last night, said the girl, she must not be the coolest of work companions, am I wrong?

—Work companions? You’re right on the euphemism’s mark, baby! She had a crush on Leo, but only on him, and life in rustic fashion is no good for her... But let’s look on the bright side: thanks to her uncle’s information, our research has been greatly facilitated and it’s now certain that she is, indeed, the descendant of Fausta Montserrat... Giròlamo and Leo should soon recover sleep ... she lit a cigarette and took a puff ... if Leonardo’s interpretation is the right one, that is.

—Oh, you’re not sure, then? Nico said, removing his legs from the chair next to him to lean towards her.

—I doubted it from the start. You see, I interpreted the intertwined messages slightly differently ... although the shape was almost identical and I think Giròlamo did too.

—But ... why didn’t you let him know? Nessa said, finally sitting down.

She took a piece of bread, spread it with butter and that delicious jamLaura made ... orange and lemon.

—Because my interpretation would have embarrassed him. It’s even too early to submit it to him or Leo.

—Hm! Hm! Wait a minute! I know! It speaks of love, doesn’t it? Vanessa proposed, brandishing her toast.

—Yes... So you guessed it, too!

—It seems to me as clear as daylight ... only Leo is still rejecting the possibility. Even Tom, no, especially Tom, felt it right away... But... Vanessa blushed a bit ... that must hurt you, I shouldn’t be so categorical.

—I’ve had time to absorb the shock, I now only have hope that Leo will open his eyes, but only by his own logical deduction... Giròlamo would blame me to death, or anyone who would say a word to Leonardo in that sense.

—Yes! says Vanessa, with conviction. We have to stay out of it ... well... I suppose.

—I don’t understand how, after all Tom’s rude attacks, he still doesn’t get it! Nico said.

—It’s normal, Vanessa giggled, Tom’s rude attacks drown amongst the thousands of others that preceded them every time Leo met a guy or a girl he liked!

—He’s terribly sad, Laura commented, one may regret his untamed frontal attacks, but can’t blame him for feeling wretched.

—No. Except, perhaps, for the Count, no one holds it against him.

—The Count doesn’t blame Tom for this, Nessa, I don’t think so... It’s just that he hates his way of being and his rude language,Nico objected.

—Hey! Where did you learn to read Giròlamo Riario, Nico? Vanessa joked, amazed.

—I have eyes and ears and, whatever you may think, I use them, you little wasp! Nico laughed, throwing a towel at her head.

Laura would have liked these children to stay here for the whole duration of the dig. They were making her feel so much better !


	22. Low mass aboard.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nobody's sad about the Pasha's death...

Around half past four, Tommaso was awakened by whispers. He had been sleeping for barely a quarter of an hour.

( _Fucking insomniacs!_ )

“Count, are you asleep?

( _Yeah, well, like me: not any more, chances are!_ )

—No, I’m not.

( _He’s not going to ask: ‘and you?’ I hope?_ )

—And you?

( _Well, of course! Yes, my angel, with tight fists, but let’s just pretend I’m not_.)

—No fucking way I’ll sleep! It’s strange, isn’t it?

—No more than it has been for the last three months, I reckon.

—But, well, yes, it is! We’ve found everything Fausta was looking for: they’ve got it all there, her whole family!

—And by taking my father out of the picture, we saved a lot of lives, I suppose.

( _Well, well, well!That’s right, go for it, choose the first excuse that comes along, you scoundrel_!

—Wait! I know! ... Her lover is still missing!

–...

( _That’s how the boa got his mouth shut!_ )

—Do you think it could be the second mosaic? It could be! It would fit with the rest.

—Maybe.

( _Doesn’t seem convinced, our Count. One wonders why, here._ )

—Oh! Just stop already! Don’t get overenthusiastic, you’re on the verge of an overdose here!

—Ha! Ha! ... Speaking of overdoses... You didn’t take your opium with you, did you?

—I do have a spliff on me, but you can’t smoke in the car, can you? It’s a pity, it would have at least allowed us to get a little sleep... does it still hurt? Your eye.

( _My poor, sweet, bastard darling!_ )

—It’s tolerable ... and how about you?

—Giròlamo! I wasn’t really beaten up, remember?

—That’s not what I’m talking about. I saw your expression earlier, when we were talking about Corbelli... You’ve just realized what kind of world Gio and I live in, haven’t you?

—Yes. I admit that it all seemed less concrete to me before you discussed this episode.

( _Yeah. And that changes everything, right, Leo?_ )

—Will it... Will it change anything to your participation in the dig?

—What? Well, well, no! I knew who you were when I got on board ... you’d even just had my friend Nico kidnapped!

( _Shit, tell me I got it wrong! He wouldn’t change a thing, not even with a knife to his throat!_ )

—Ah! All right. You reassure me.

—What are you going to do with Forza, Giovanni and you?

—One thing’s for sure: I’ll gladly give up my charge to anyone who wants it! Free at last! Can you imagine? To say and do what I want, in the eyes of the whole world!

—Hem! Except that, without the Forza, you no longer have the protection of the police or justice.

—No more protection of this kind, but I swear to you that no one will try anything against us. Giovanni and I have been dreaming of this day for a long time, we’ve put aside some documents that should keep us safe for a long time. Everything is rotten, Leonardo ... and when I say everything, believe me, I mean everything!

—If I were you, I’d have a crazy shindig!

( _What? A shindig? You think His Lordship uses to have shindigs? Never Leo! Where would the world go if the aristocracy started acting like the small fry?_ )

—And we’ll have one, with our friends from the camp, I promise!

—You’re serious?

—I think I told you once that I’m always serious, right?

—That day you said ‘most of the time’ if I remember correctly.

—It seems a long time ago, doesn’t it?

—Yes, distant and strange... I have a funny feeling: as if we had chosen a path between two worlds.

—A tunnel or a bridge to something else? Me too!

( _There is no hidden meaning, oh no! Absolutely not! Honey-coated viper tongue... A little flirting, maybe it can do the trick?_ )

—Say! Aren’t you done with your low mass yet, back there? Some people would like to sleep! grumbled Giovanni.

—We too, Cousin! So would we, I assure you!

—So ... don’t deprive others of it... Shut up, you insomniacs!

( _I like that man!_ )

—Come on, Leo, let’s go for a walk... It’s a full moon, we’ll be able to see in the dark.

( _When I turn into a werewolf!_ )

*** 

Lupo Mercuri was collecting all the compromising documents he had kept in his office. He trembled so badly that folders often slipped out of his hands, or the few personal objects that followed him everywhere: a framed photo of his daughter, who had been killed, shot on the pasha’s request; Mount Blanc and Montegrappa pens, a mug of no commercial value but which he held dear.

Alessandro Della Rovere had disappeared!

In other words, he had died. Because not one day in forty-one years, when he had taken over from his father, had he failed to show up, swaying his full belly and stretching his mouth into his hateful closed-bracket smile, always ready to humiliate, mock, condemn ... and eat.

Dead! At last!

With no one left to give orders, since Giovanni Della Rovere had’nt resurfaced any more than his iceberg of a cousin, the guards whispered and smoked, drank, burped...

This was Babylon!

Two dead guards had been found in the archives of the Forza. Traces of blood, DNA of four individuals whose names were being kept secret and who, according to Lupo, would never be worried if they were the individuals he had in mind.

Already there were calls from all over Italy and even Europe. He had decided to stop answering them.

From now on, he too was playing the role of the invisible man. He was flying to the United States as soon as tonight and was determined never to return. The money he had embezzled from the Forza would allow him to live very comfortably in Florida for the rest of his life.

He threw one last look around his workspace, called a moderately drunk guard to carry his entire move and smiled.

He had done well for himself, all things considered.

***

Alberto had laid on a grand meal. He had sent the Ghanaians and Bostonians into town, some with a list of food, others with a list of beers, wines and spirits.

The computers had been put away, a large table had been set up and room had even been made under the big tent for dancing.

Forza had been decapitated of its three heads, its Grand Master dead (and cremated), its two successors resigned with great pleasure... Long live the late Forza!

Everyone was happy, except Graziella, but she counted only for the great Giovanni, who seemed only little disturbed by his wife’s blandness. A habit, perhaps?

On their return, immediately after the abundant and heartwarming effusions, Girolamo and Leonardo had wanted to see the progress of the second mosaic. It was now half-revealed and it was indeed the depiction of a male figure.

Laura had also found out that, close to Fausta Montserrat, there had been a certain Bonifacio, whose name was often mentioned. He was her father’s secretary, and a painting of him had been discovered as well.

Was he Fausta’s lover, the love of her life? This, they had to accept, they might never know.

For now, however, it didn’t inspire them much concern. It was now necessary to forget the insomnia and fears of the past to duly celebrate the end of Giovanni, Girolamo and many, many others’ subjection. Those who had served the Pasha, his second in command and his commander were now free to make their choices!

Vanessa left Alberto to the final preparations and led Nico to the table, where Laura’s personal computer as well as a large quantity of CDs were awaiting them. They opted for ‘I Gotta Feeling’ by The Black-Eyed Peas to set the mood, while Tom and Leonardo began pouring the first aperitifs. Afterwards, everyone would just help themselves...

“Open bar! “cried Tom, in his marketplace-call tone.


	23. Dreams have no need of sleep.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A true little village, lust, Saint John The Baptist and a nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listening to this... 
> 
> https://youtu.be/gwcdsIUfMag
> 
> "Corrupt" by Depeche Mode

Laura Cereta had quipped that the camp was becoming some village, and that some time it would be necessary to consider expanding it by adding a few more tents. As soon as she said this, Tom immediately set out to find the one he had taken to calling ‘the waxbill’,* or ‘the Lord Candellor of the Exchequer’, namely Giròlamo Riario. Tom deemed this piece of wit of his particularly clever, since, over time, the count tended to turn the colour of candle wax, and, likewise, to melt in the generous Sicilian sun.

One evening, as Tom was about to join the others for dinner in the big tent, he bumped into his rival at the opening, and hit him up for a service: « Count, I need to talk to you about something.  
Giròlamo, sensing one of the man’s many insulting tirades, sighed.  
—Well, let’s go, then,Masini ... the sooner we deal with it the sooner it’s over.  
—It’s nothing to do with your precious person in particular, I just want to please Laura Cereta.  
Riario raised his eyebrows and displayed a half smile:  
—Would it be possible that we agree on something, for once, Tommaso? I’m nothing short of flabbergasted. Go ahead ... anything that pleases Laura has my favour.  
—Fuck ! You always have to use frills of language, haven’t you? Anyway... Here it is: I’ll need funds to buy a few more tents. I’d like to put them up one of these nights and surprise her in the morning.  
—Oh! Has she expressed a wish to expand our camp?  
—In jest only, but I think she means it.  
—Great idea! It’s true that, with my cousin’s arrival and the permanent presence of all the staff, we can feel a bit cramped... Come and see me after dinner, I’ll write you the cheque and give you the address where to find the appropriate tents ... it’s not for aesthetic we chose camouflage.  
Tom wrinkled his forehead:  
—Uh! ... You remember you no longer have to conceal the camp, right?  
Riario stared at him, mouth ajar:  
—I ... it’s true! I had forgotten.  
—Oh, I guess hiding has long become second nature, huh? Tom tapped him on the shoulder: Don’t worry about it, Monsignor, we’ve been knowing for quite a while!  
—Ah! There it is! I feared you’d suddenly unlearned to bite.  
—Never in the presence of danger, mate, that’s what life has taught me.»  
Tom left him there to go and eat – as usual, he was starving.

The Count stayed outside for a minute, listening to the hoarse song of the batrachians.  
They were like mistrust: so securely settled that in years to come, they would still haunt the place, all ready to follow their instincts, which dictated that they shouldn’t change anything. Ever.  
Even if he had wanted to, even if he decided tomorrow to invest all his energy in it, he would never convince Masini of his supportiveness towards Leonardo. He would always be on his guard, willing to shred any threatening body.  
He couldn’t blame him, he would do the same.  
  
And that’s how, one morning of the following week, Laura discovered three more tents on her construction site.  
What no one could have guessed, though, was the ensuing discussion about the distribution of coworkers in these new shelters. No one, apart from Riario, whose job in the Pasha’s guard for the past ten years had precisely been to get a few steps ahead of events.

He had not warned Tom about this logical consequence, for fear of appearing hostile to his initiative. The man would have seen it as the petty reaction of one rival denying the other his moment of glory, and those acrimonious exchanges between them, though they didn’t disturb him, annoyed and bored him.

To Tommaso’s great disappointment, Laura considered that those who rose at dawn, namely Leonardo, Giròlamo and herself, on the one hand, and Alberto and Audrey on the other, had to be housed together, so as not to wake their roommates prematurely when getting ready.  
Just to remedy this, this well-known sleeper of Tommaso could have promised to always wake up at dawn. But neither did he want to appear petty and childish in the eyes of ‘His Grandeur’. So, he kept quiet and swallowed the lump in his throat when Leo and Riario, almost perky, moved their luggage to settle in a common tent.

« This reminds me of my scout camps! Leo laughed.  
—Scout? You used to be a scout, Leo? the Count wondered.  
—I won’t pretend that it was a choice, nor is it one of my best memories, but at least I was leaving my boarding school for a while... I’ll have to tell you about my boarding school, Giròlamo... I bet you’ll see some similarities with your monastery.  
Riario stopped short and looked at him, very pale, with a worried look on his face:  
—You ... were you mistreated there?  
Leo grasped a lot of things at the same time and stammered:  
—Oh, I... I... No! Perhaps your monastery and my boarding school didn’t have that much in common after all. Come ... this is our home and the discipline will be what we want it to be ! » he added, putting an arm on the Count’s shoulders to take him along.

Tommaso looked up to the sky.  
(Shit! Oh, glorious shit! Why don’t I ever think beyond the tip of my dick?) 

***

Leo couldn’t sleep. Nothing new, here, of course, except for...

He had been haunted by the same song the whole evening. Like only a fool would do, he had put images on it, couldn’t let it go, as if he was clinging to Ariadne’s thread, heading for the rewarding but unattainable centre of the movie. 

Shackled to some dampish wall in a cave, helpless and burning with lust, he could only watch a dark, feline silhouette, pacing to and fro in front of him... « I can corrupt you, the husky voice taunted, but I will not touch you. I’ll leave you to beg and pant for a mere contact, for a kiss in your neck, a stroke of my fingers on your naked, needy shaft... Then, I would undress, slowly, let you see me and come closer to make you feel my own vibration, breathe in my sweat... But I wouldn’t have you touch me in any way either...» And on and on it went, over and over again...

Leo was in a fever. The tension felt sharp and corroding. Even the soft, light sheet upon him was scorching his skin. 

After a good deal of tossing and turning, after pleasuring himself in a vain attempt to appease the hunger, he got up from his cot, moaning : « I hate you for this! I loathe myself for this! ... Damn! »

He went outside and, trying to escape his obsession, sat down on a wall to ruminate over his latest problem of conscience.  
Tonight, on the radio, he had heard terrible news from Rome, Florence and Turin. The Grand Master of Forza’s death, the disappearance of the top of the pyramid, had triggered a bloody struggle between the section chiefs and between their lieutenants. There was a daily settling of scores that did not only bring about casualties within the sole organization.  
Even this evening, street brawls had again claimed victims on café terraces, in public squares and in a library, where two members of a branch of Forza Torino had sought shelter.

Should he tell Riario about it?

Giovanni might still lend an ear to the information and be aware of these latest facts, but Giròlamo?  
Giròlamo was elsewhere. "Unplugged" would have been the most appropriate term. Leo couldn’t wonder at this, he who had only been suffering from insomnia for a little over a month and yet already felt he was losing his footing. This was probably why Giovanni was keeping his cousin away from what he knew.  
However, Leo was able to guess Giròlamo’s mental pattern because, although they had been brought up and trained in completely different spheres, they tended to react in the same manner. He, in a similar situation, would have hated to be left out of the loop. He might have appreciated being protected out of sympathy, but would have loathed being kept from the truth. 

He stood up with great care, like an old man, for even to stand up now required a minimum of caution. A few mornings before, forgetting his physical condition, he had swung his legs out of bed and got up in his usual way, determined and eager to start the day… only to go and stumble with his head straight ahead, against one of the tent pegs.

Once he was sure that the blood was circulating normally and had had time to irrigate his brain, he went to find his friend... Well, yes, weird, this ... "friend"!  
  
The Count didn’t even turn around. He knew Leo’s footfall, his smell, everything about his presence:  
" There’s a distinctive sign on his raised hand ... a tattoo or a henna drawing.  
—It could help us identify him! That’s a big step forward, Giròlamo!  
—I think so... Morpheus is turning you down again?  
—Will we ever sleep again? Leo sighed, as he came closer.  
—When we will have all the elements of the enigma no doubt... Let’s consider ourselves happy not to be haunted by her any longer since we found her family! On the other hand, the dreams of my brief sleeping spells turned into nightmares... I have to ... he pivoted unexpectedly and found Leo so close that he jumped up, had to catch his shoulders for balance: sorry, I didn’t know you...  
But Leo stood there, captivated by the reflection of the lamp in his gaze. The brown had turned to gold under the effect of the light.  
—Splendid! he murmured, as if he were alone, squinting into the Count’s eyes, deep down to the finest detail... I must paint you, Count! You are the Saint John the Baptist on which I have been working for months, without finding ... without finding this look, precisely these eyes, this colour Giròlamo!  
He was getting excited, on another level, this time ... the Count half smiled:  
—One would boast about much less than this, Artista! Saint John the Baptist… No less!  
Leo finally understood his discomfort and stepped back:  
—I interrupted you. You were about to tell me something...  
—Ah? Yes?  
—About dreams turning to nightmares.  
The Count raised a finger:  
—That’s right! Come on, I need to sit... There ... there are no remains to damage in this corner.  
He sat down, or rather let himself fall, and he seemed to have climbed a steep hill. This was really becoming very alarming, his companion judged.  
But he said nothing and sat down beside him, blood pulsing in his veins, doing the best he could to hide it.

—One evening, in my dream, Giròlamo began, after working without a break all day, I unveiled a message on the mosaic, a clear one, in words, which finally delivered the solution to Fausta’s riddle. I rushed out, happy as ever, to go and announce the news and, without wasting any more time, I ran back to the place to discover that ... that a stranger had filled the whole room with rubble... He was still there, gesticulating, and enjoying a great time, jubilant as he threw loads of earth down the dig and up in the air… I was crying for rage and sorrow, and the man started laughing more and more. At that moment you would come and tell me that he was a friend of yours, and that I was making a big deal out of little, compared to what could happen in life... I hated you, Leo. I really did. I swore that you would never ... that you would never be my friend again... You were looking so contemptuous! It was as if you were driving a stake through my body...  
With that, I tried to get home to Florence ... walking! A nauseating liquid was flowing down all the paths I took, gasoline... I even saw the blue halos, which everyone knows and I was lost. I would ask people for directions, and each time, they would send me on a different route... I sensed that, sooner or later, the fuel would ignite and I wouldn’t reach my villa… 

That’s when I woke. It had only lasted half an hour probably, but it seemed like I had been spending an eternity there! It was ... it was horrible.  
Leo put one hand on his arm:  
—That will never happen, Count.  
—What? You don’t think I can ever lose my way?  
—I don’t think you’ll ever find me anywhere but by your side. Lost or not, I will be so present that one day you will get tired of me, Leo smiled.  
And like all well-chosen words, these worked their miracle.  
The Count smiled  
—Do you think that Saint John the Baptist would send me straight to hell, for sitting for his portrait?  
—No. I think he would be flattered. »


	24. A plea.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laura takes Leo out to lunch to talk about love and give away a secret...

The next day, Laura Cereta invited Leo to accompany her to Catania under the pretext of a paper supply. Perhaps he would sooner or later need some material to get back to painting? Leo was naturally surprised that she thought of it the very next day after that conversation with Giròlamo about his Saint John the Baptist. He asked her if the Count had mentioned it to her. He had not.

"I chose this excuse to have you all to myself all morning... I know of a small, quiet restaurant where we can talk. » she just explained.

He had no clue as to what to make of it.

Some question about the ongoing research? A project for the excavations? A problem with Giròlamo?

Probably the latter.

Leo may have been very busy suppressing his naughty thoughts, but he saw that his former rival was not well at all. His gaze was either extinguished or too intense, never determined and unswerving as he had known it before his detention by Della Rovere.

The warmth, the stuffy smell of Catania, reminded him of the evening when they had first met at the Shelter ... ages before, when they were still a bit carefree, himself because of his nature and his youth, Giròlamo because of his conviction that, one day, he might be able to follow a different path. This recklessness had been stifled by the effects of insomnia, they were both forlorn, defeated by their own sleep-deprived bodies.

After a quick detour to the paper store, where canvases, brushes, knives and paints were also sold, they settled in the coolness of a tiny restaurant, at the farthest table from the entrance.

Leo smiled (an exit nearby, a fire extinguisher that can always be used as a backup weapon, and his back to the wall to see who was going in and out...)

"A memory? she asked, as she saw the dreamy face.

—Yes ... The Shelter. My second meeting with the Count.

—Have I ever told you about my Genius of Strange Attractions? she said, drinking a sip of her Martini Bianco.

He was amused and, as always in such cases, wrinkled his nose a little as he laughed. She found it charming, that trait, it gave him a childish look, you wanted to kiss him.

—The Genius of Strange Attractions?

—I believe he exists. See, he slips into a crowd, invisible and, like Cupid, aims at two persons who have never met. In this way, he establishes an ineluctable bond of friendship or love between them. The two individuals approach each other without premeditation, attracted by what they will call, for lack of knowing its name, an "intuition". Then the Genius of Strange Attractions moves on to the next couple. It is neither a passion nor a mission to him. It’s just his nature. He leaves a different message to each, no doubt. I can only share the one he gave me, which is: you have to learn to see through something other than your eyes. Through your skin, through your sense of smell and hearing, always on alert; through an unknown sense that, at times, opens a door into the hard canvas of tangibility... Some see in it the effect of unknown vibes, others as a whim of destiny... There are, of course, many different interpretations.

He was looking at her, fascinated, as though he saw her for the first time. She was wearing a dress that made her ten years younger: a fabric, almost transparent, white, fluid as a spring breeze, with a print of forget-me-nots. She had tied her Venetian blond hair in a loose bun that reminded him of Botticelli’s Venus.

She presented him with a luxurious case and, when he had lit the two cigarettes, she threw herself into the dangerous waters of greater intimacy :

—This is a plea for help, Leonardo. I’m going to tackle a touchy subject with you and I hope you won’t hold it against me, as you will recognize my motives... I need to know the truth, and not to my benefit or out of sterile curiosity... What are your feelings towards Giròlamo? Please don’t object, wait! I’ve been observing you both since I’ve been in your presence. I know that Giròlamo loves you and aches for you, I understand that you desire him without daring to venture into delicate territory, I can pick the longing in your gestures, in your expressions and your gaze. But before going any further, I want to ask if there is something more than that affinity on your part.

Leo suspended his breath. It was rather frontal an attack, and his forehead had become sweaty while his blood had frozen.

He had known for a long time that this moment would come, when he would have to stop and look the truth straight in the face and from every angle. He had feared it, had always postponed it. He had never been prepared for it. Why he was never ready, he didn’t figure out ... well, that is, not quite. He suspected that whatever the answer to that question was, it would affect a part of his life that he cared about.

He’d undertaken an alleged study of how to fold his napkin, but when it came to replying, he looked her in the face, as if it was to himself that he was opening.In either case, he wanted nothing but perfect honesty:

—For some time now, I’ve known that I can no longer do without Giròlamo’s presence. His company makes me strive to live up to our task, whatever it may be: convincing Lucas Webb and the Forza, looking for tracks leading to Fausta, getting him out of Della Rovere’s dirty hands... Even at the beginning, in our exchanges between strangers, then as adversaries, I already felt the urge to surpass myself... It’s weird, but when I am discouraged and he enters the room, zeal comes back to me. I want to talk to him about my projects, about the problems on our path, to look for a way to get around them with him. I need him in my team and in my life.

—Do you feel different inside, in his presence? Does your heart beat stronger?

—It was always the case. At first, I thought it was because of the excitement of the competition. A rivalry like ours has similar effects to casino gambling, you know. With Riario around, I always felt like I was standing at the roulette wheel, at the very minute when I had just bet everything I owned on one number.

—And today, without this rivalry?

—The fear has gone. Instead, I feel... I feel full of something, not hollow and at the mercy of a gust of wind, but more confident in my steps. His presence is making my life richer and more intense. I wish to be there for him, I... I think I... I’d kill for him. I want to feel his heart, through mine... And yes, of course, I desire him!Have you ever even seen him? A gaze like his just takes you to a different dimension. A body like his would make even marble vibrate !

—Good. So you love him, then.

He looked at her for a moment, lips half open, realizing to whom he had confided in this way:

—Yes ... passionately so ... Which makes me your rival, huh? I’m sorry about that, Signora.

—No, come on, Leo! I always sensed that Giròlamo didn’t love me, that he didn’t keep away from me because it would have been inappropriate, but suffice to see him in your presence to understand that, what you’ve just described to me, he feels too. He has admired you from the very first day: he loved you from the very beginning, he even liked your insolence at once, he who is so devoid of it!

—You know how he would react if someone suggested romance between us! Leo protested... And sex, which to me, is important, is not one of the ideas he is at peace with, much less still relationships between men.

—It may be unthinkable in his mind, just not in his body, trust me. He rejects it because of his past, which I’ve always suspected to be tainted, but ... well, his eyes tell all the things he can’t yet allow himself to admit.

Leo blinked. Could he believe her? Was it the truth or the dream of a woman too blind, too eager to satisfy the one she loved? If only she could be right! He resumed his study of the towel.

—He always puts distances between us, however.

—Always? Or do you fail to notice the few occasions when, no doubt too shy, he takes a step? I remember your return from Rome. You were turning your back to him, he approached and was a second away from resting his hand on your shoulder. You pivoted at the wrong moment and saw none of it, he took a step backwards... I was mad at you, for a while, for this lack of receptivity... She took another sip and continued... Unfortunately, we are past that point. Do you know what he has in mind today?

Leo shook his head slowly, in a “no “:

–I can see he’s dejected, and I can see him losing weight and being disconnected from the present. I conclude that he’s been brooding over the past, realizes what he has done, what he has committed for a cause that was never his own ... but I fail to think of the right words. She nodded a little, impatient with this lack of resourcefulness. He continued: I never knew how to cheer up and comfort, my friends will tell you. They have experienced it many times.

—So, if not words, find something else, because he intends to turn himself in to the police, and you know very well, as he does, what will happen to him in prison.

Leo raised his voice in panic and anger :

—What ? But... No! What the fuck ! He mustn’t! I mean, why should he alone pay the bill for the Forza, the Webbs and all those of their ilk?

—We fully agree, then ! So, let’s not waste any more time. I’ll tell you my plan. It’s a double-or-quits game, but it would be inexcusable not to give it a try. And to fill in the gaps in my case, I will, for the very first occasion in my life, betray a secret...Do you remember the day we each developed our version of Fausta’s intertwined messages?

—Of course ... but he never shared his own interpretation... He crumpled up his paper instead, and walked out of the tent as if he had the devil on his heels...

—Let me show you his very own words. She took a leaf from her bag and handed it to him, blushing : I hate to do this, be sure of it, and if I hadn’t been assured of your love, you would never have read it, I would have burned it ... but there is some urgency here...

Leo read :

_Seek your true family, you who feel separated from your shadow._

_See mine: I live ... and we are soul mates._

_Save lives, save MY life._

_Hurry to see me and listen to me._

_Search, search, when your friends leave._

_See the sweet eyes of enemies, they confess their love, which is not made of wind._

_Beware of the path, for the land of the path is dark,_

_Whereas the wind bird is a radiant desire._

_He gives me life and, in doing so, takes it._

_Bitterness turns into sweetness and fury._

_A heart overwhelmed by the very first desires..._

_Makes a pretty face heal your wounds by hurting you_

_And the abundance of intense pleasure_

_Tears up the night of light._

_Seek, seek, what separates you from yourself and the soul of your enemy._

—Ho ... how did I miss it, when I... I had so long been longing for a sign? he mumbled.

His eyes had filled with tears, he was struggling to keep a steady breath.

—You may have seen these signs, but you didn't allow yourself to hope, you assumed it was impossible. Am I mistaken?

—No, you’re right.I remember his reaction to my insult one evening in the pub ... and also his relief in the archive building, when I cut off his straitjacket, his sobs, a smile on his face in the car and his fingers on my cheek to test the make-up... At each and single one of these moments, I refused to trust the signs, while at each, though, I wanted to take his head in my hands to kiss him... I... I think I have loved him since our first encounters, Laura! And I have never said anything so definitive and serious about any man or woman, because I have never felt anything like that.

—Tom sensed it right away, you know ... he told me one night: “this time it’s more serious and that dumbass Leo won’t even realize it!“

She allowed him some time, he needed it, so she handed him a pack of tissues. He took one:

—I... I know I look like an idiot, right ?

—No, you look human... And I bet that now you’ve found out the truth, Fausta will at last let you sleep.

—Are you serious?

—Perhaps mistaken, but serious, yes... I do believe that Giròlamo’s reading was the correct one. »


	25. Gold.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the end... happy or, unhappy ending ? As usual, it depends on whom your heart is beating for...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, don’t lose patience with me, this is my first try at a more sexy text in English. 😉

“What the fuck are they doing?”

Tom had been glaring at the tent for three hours. He had got up at nine o'clock and "the other two" hadn't yet stepped outside.

"Are you sure they were both alive when you went out, Signora?

\- Tommaso! You will understand that I didn't wake them up, I hope: it's the first time they've had a decent night's sleep for three months or more!

\- I'd be cautious all the same, if I were you. I know that you trust that forked-tongued sphinx, but I have frightening images that come back to me every time he is alone with Leo... I'll go and see.

She stopped him:

\- I wouldn't advise it. I'll wake them up, if it will make you feel better.”

She turned her back to climb the slight slope towards the tent with a smile on her face. She trusted Leonard: with his help her plan would work.

She woke him up first, caressing his face and hair and whispering: "It's noon, my beautiful Leo, you have been sleeping for twelve hours.

Leo was never in a very good mood when he came out of his sleep, but Laura offered a picture to delight a painter. This morning, a tender light and the slight haze of waking up made her look like the little girls Renoir loved to paint.

\- Did he sleep? he asked.

She nodded:

\- As much as you did. I'll wake him up... Your friend Tom is worried about your safety.

As he sat down and stood up - this time supple and assured, like a boy of twenty-five - she was waking the Count, in their language of honey and wine :

\- È ora di alzarsi, tesoro.

He saw the light and asked :

\- È reale?

\- You have slept a long time, yes.

\- And Leo?

Laura laughed and looked at Leonardo :

\- You see what I mean?

He came closer:

\- I won't lie to myself again, I swear... Hello, Count ! he smiled.

\- Artista! So you too have been sleeping like a log ? How is that even possible?

He stood up and looked at Leonardo, observing on his face the same benefits of rest he was feeling. He leaned aside to pick up the T-shirt hanging from a hanger at the foot of his bed, but behind him Laura stopped the gesture, whispered a few words in his ear and, as Leo approached, put a kiss on his nape.

He shivered and smiled at her.

Then she walked away, fondling the painter's shoulder as she passed by, and walked out.

The two friends looked at each other, intense, motionless.

\- I want to kiss you without any smoke in between, Leo whispered.

\- Would you dare, though? the Count challenged.

\- I would dare much more, if only you would allow it.

With a flutter of his eyelids, Giròlamo moistened his lips:

\- I wou...

Then, Leo dared. He covered his elder's lips while tracing them with the tip of his tongue, his right hand on his cheek.

Giròlamo was trembling, a rush of want rolling through him.

Leo stepped back to resume the exchange of glances:

\- We'll go as far as you want, but give me a chance, Rio. One gesture, from you, just one word and I'll stop.

\- _Rio_? I like it! the Count smiled. 

\- It's been three months since my nights have been calling you so.

\- You are _Artista_ and _Limone dolce_ , he breathed out, as if these names were enough to open the sluices.

\- Sweet lemon? That suits me too!

Leonardo whispered, never breaking eye contact... He was beaming,wrinkling his nose a bit, in his usual way, the one that quickened Riario's heartbeat every time. The Count’s eyes clouded, desire imperiouslytaking over.

Leo’s gut was tingling with arousal at the sight of that alone, the dilated pupils, the fluttering eyelashes, moistening of lips...

\- I demand more of your smokeless opium, Artista...

He threw himself at his companion, making the kiss more ardent, and ripped off Leo's T-shirt, blood drumming a revolution in his veins.

Leo grunted in approval and pushed his hips forward to feel Giròlamo’s need, flaring up his own... He couldn’t have uttered a word in between the hungry kisses. All of him was sheer sensation, he was skin, flesh and blood, devoid of any will or thought.

Giròlamo then pushed him, throwing him across his cot, sat on the edge himself and bent over, kissing, biting,and lovingly caressing every bit of skin.

Leo, clinging to his shoulders, moaned loudly, jerking into the soft touch,playful bites or eager sucks, arching in full abandonment.

When the Count’s hand crept tantalizingly slow down his belly, then under the elastic waistband of his pyjama pants, he moaned again, pleadingly...

“Please, Rio...”

Giròlamo had been imagining everything he would do toand get from this boy. For endless days and nights.

He would give his last drop of blood, the last breath of air in his lungs for him. Any time.

And he told him so.

When a loud “Fuck, Rio, please, yeeesss !” escaped from their tent, when Giròlamocried it all out as well,Tommaso no longer imagined murder.

He threw a barely touched sandwich in the distance and let Nico and Vanessa down, grumbling:

"And then, God created hell! Shit! We're going to hear the name of this fucking psychopath around every fucking sentence now! Fuck! Bloody fuck! »

The two young people exchanged looks and choked their laughter... One thing was certain:Tommaso would be Tommaso.

They haven’t always been lovers, far from it, but there's no one left to remember that. In everyone's mind, Leo and Giròlamo are, forever, two sides of the same coin...

Pure gold.


End file.
